Along the Way
by Anonymous033
Summary: "Remember that bucket list I have? Number seventeen, 'Road trip across the United States with Ziva.' That's what we're doing." Tony and Ziva go on a road trip together. Sequel to "Memoir," prequel to "Destination."
1. Prologue

**Summary: "Remember that bucket list I have? Number seventeen, 'Road trip across the United States with Ziva.' That's what we're doing." Tony and Ziva go on a road trip together. Sequel to _Memoir,_ so it won't make sense if you haven't read that first.**

**Disclaimer: Wouldn't it be cool if TPTB could turn this into an episode ... *wishful thinking* ... but I hold no power over TPTB's plans, which pretty much tells you that I don't own NCIS.**

**Spoilers: General NCIS, from 3x01 "Kill Ari (Part 1)" up to 9x13 "A Desperate Man."**

**Notes: This fic takes place mid-April, and in here, Jimmy Palmer's wedding has already been held. During and after that wedding, Ziva was rather down in the dumps (with contemplating her own _un-_impending nuptials), and Tony noticed ... hence this fic! :D**

**Okay, I gave up. Haha. Not permanently; I just mean I gave up trying to write the entire freakin' thing before I published it. If it's any comfort, I currently have this prologue and twelve other chapters written! :D (And I present them with a nice little bow in apology to those whose messages I've been neglecting this past month...)**

**Warnings: This fic is mostly, if not entirely, Tony/Ziva. As in, the characters in this fic are Tony and Ziva, and ... that's pretty much it. If you would _much _rather a team multi-chapter, then this is not the fic for you. Haha! Also—this fic contains some factual stuff, since they're ... well, sightseeing in places that actually exist. Said factual stuff will be elaborated in A/Ns, which are not necessary to read ... but, yea.**

**I'm done rambling.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

She looks up and blinks in surprise when he presses a piece of paper onto her desk and leans forward, grinning into her face like an excited puppy awaiting a particularly juicy bone.

Her eyes narrow, and she says, "If you're not going to tell me what that is, move out of the way. You're blocking my light, and I was supposed to have finished this three hours ago."

His face falls. "Oh, c'mon! Play along."

She sighs and indulges him, capping her pen. "Okay. So, Tony, what's this?"

"A request."

"For what?"

"Time off!"

She isn't prepared for the way her chest suddenly seizes, leaving her breathless and perhaps a little shocked. "You're taking time off?"

His face softens, and he bestows her with a gentle smile. "No, Zi. We are."

"We … are. W-why?"

"Remember that bucket list I have? Number seventeen, 'Road trip across the United States with Ziva.' That's what we're doing."

"Road trip?" Her heart sinks. "Tony, I don't know how to tell you this, but I don't feel up to any road trips right now."

His expression doesn't change, almost as if he'd been expecting her resistance. "Give me one good reason," he says quietly.

"Well…" She shoves the paperwork on her desk at him desperately. "I have a lot of work to do."

"Work can wait. Road trip can't, Ziva. I'm not going to wait until we're both old and grey, and have no more paperwork, before we hobble across the U.S. using our walkers."

"Gibbs is not going to let us."

"I've already asked him, actually, and gotten his 'Okay.' I just need your signature on this request form, and we're off."

"Gibbs is letting us—you and me—off on a road trip for days, alone and without his supervision?" She raises her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah. Now that I think about it, though, he did warn me not to feel you up without your consent."

She snorts with laughter, and his smile widens the tiniest bit.

"And I promised I wouldn't," he adds. "So, how 'bout it?"

She chews on her lip. "Tony—"

"Zi." He leans in even closer, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before continuing. "I know you've been all … wonky lately. Not that that's not okay … it's just that maybe you need some time off. Some time to work things out."

She closes her eyes, fighting the sadness that threatens to fill her senses. "Tony, you don't want a gloomy person on a trip with you."

"Yeah, I do. 'Specially if I get to show off my superior planning skills. I've got the whole thing planned out; the whole month of it."

"A _month?_" Her eyes snap open. "We'll be gone for a month?"

"Yeah. We've more than enough comp time for it: we could actually take like three months off, but I don't think Timmy would appreciate that."

"And we're leaving McGee alone with Gibbs for a month."

"Probie will be fine. I won't be there to abuse him, so that sorta evens things out."

"Tony." She tilts her head disapprovingly.

"Gibbs'll hire temps," he supplies sheepishly. "He says he'll be paying for them with our salaries, but I think he was kidding."

"So you _might_ be costing me a month of my salary?"

"For a good cause! C'mon, Zi, we said we'd do this."

"I know." She nods reluctantly, and looks away. "I know."

"Are you regretting it?"

She turns back in alarm. "No, of course not! It's just … I don't know how much we'll be enjoying this trip, Tony. I am not exactly the happiest person in the world right now."

"Yeah, but that's why we're going on this trip." He slips around her desk and seats himself on the edge of it, looking earnestly at her. "Remember that 'Content-Slash-Happy' conversation that we had? Well, I know you're content. You come to work and do your job and talk to us, and it's like there's absolutely nothing wrong with the world. But you look a little too tired at the end of the workday. It's like you're settling … into this pattern that keeps you going, but you're not really _happy _with it. Look, I don't know how good this road trip will be at lighting up your world again. But it's a different pattern, and I think it's worth a try."

She purses her lips and nods again. "Okay," she relents.

"'Okay'? Does that mean we're doing this?"

"Yes."

"Awesome." He grins again.

She picks up a pen and signs her name on the request form, everything else having been filled in by him. Then she gives the piece of paper back to him, and he runs his thumb across the back of her hand before taking it. Her heart skips a beat.

She's unsure if a road trip with him is the best idea right now, but she supposes there's no other way to find out.


	2. Day One

**Hi, I'm back!**

**I tried to upload yesterday but FFN wouldn't let me log in, I swear! So sorry to those of you to whom I said that I'd publish the next chapter then, haha.**

**Okay, more disclaimers: I left in the names of the attractions they visited, but I'm unsure of the whole ... copyright thingy ... regarding businesses, so know that some attractions are public while some are private, some you have to pay for and some you don't, but I don't own any and am not advertising or endorsing any. I am simply borrowing their names for creative purposes.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day One<strong>

_She almost kills him when he tells her that she has only a week to pack for a month's trip, but she spares him out of curiosity when he tells her that he has a surprise for her. He then proceeds to instruct her not to bring anything but clothes and money, because he has everything else prepared._

_She doesn't know if that has her more relieved or apprehensive._

_He mock-glares her way, and she guiltily swallows back the expression which probably spoke volumes about her confidence in his ability to prepare for anything._

_She decides to trust his judgement (mostly because she has no choice in the matter)._

xoxo

Wednesday morning has him calling her cell phone at 4.30AM and sounding chipper. "I'm outside your apartment," he tells her cheerfully. "You ready?"

"Yes," she answers, and drags her suitcases towards the door.

"Alright, hang on. I'll be right up to take your bags down."

"Why? I can carry them myself."

"Because I want your eyes closed once you get to the lobby, and even if you can navigate yourself around using bat radar, I doubt you'd be able to keep from walking your bags into a really expensive vase, or something. At least, it's a risk I'd rather not take."

She grunts. "Okay. Suit yourself."

xoxo

Her jaw drops once she's allowed to open her eyes. "Tony … that's an RV," she gasps. She whips around to look at him.

"Yup." He smiles nervously at her. "What do you think?"

"I think it's wonderful." Her voice catches just a bit when she realizes just how much planning he must've done, and so it makes sense for her to engulf him in a hug. "Thank you."

The relief in his voice is evident. "I was hoping you'd like it, 'cause after how enthusiastic you sounded about the road trip, I thought the wrong vehicle might make you cancel it altogether."

Her heart gives a painful thump. "I'd never cancel on you, Tony."

He gives an odd sort of shrug. "Wanna see the inside?"

She smiles. "Well, since we're travelling together, I want to see the inside, yes."

xoxo

The inside having been inspected (and deemed satisfactory after she caught sight of a nice-looking shower and a nicer-looking bed), she settles down into the passenger seat and fastens the seat belt.

"No washer and dryer, but they'll have 'em at the RV parks," he informs her.

"I can live with that." She beams at him. "I love the RV."

"They didn't have many choices, but I picked this one because I figured you'd appreciate the size and the fact that it's probably more convenient than a cabover."

"And a cabover is…?"

"That thingy where they've bed space over the cab, or … something…"

"Oh," she answers, not understanding any better what a _cabover _is. And then a horrifying thought occurs to her. "Tony, you did not _buy _this, did you?"

He chuckles. "Nope, rented it. Wouldn't have had anywhere to park it long-term, if I'd bought it. Shoulda heard my angry neighbour complaining last night."

"Hmm."

"The dinette slides out, by the way," he says, his eyes suddenly alight with excitement. "I'll show you later. Ooh! And it can be made into a bed. I figured I'll sleep there, and you can take the bedroom."

"The bedroom is big enough for both of us."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to assume I can just crawl into bed with you. Although," he gives her a quick smirk, "if you say I can, I've absolutely no objection to sleeping with a really hot chick."

She smacks his arm. "No feeling me up without my consent."

xoxo

It's growing light when they stop at a diner off the I-95 for breakfast, and she has to hold in a snort as they pull up next to the trucks. She's driven plenty of big trucks before, but never ridden in an RV; it's an interesting experience.

"I want to drive next," she announces as they exit the vehicle. He looks at her warily.

"You don't even know where we're going."

"So? You can hold on to the map and point me."

"I don't think so. You drive like a maniac, Zi, and the RV is too pretty for you to wreck."

"I'm not going to wreck it. I'll be careful; I promise."

"Is that how you got your parents to let you drive?" he asks amusedly as he pushes open the glass-panelled door and stands aside to let her enter the diner.

"I inherited my mother's car after her death, actually," she replies quietly, and she registers the slight shock on his face just as she brushes past him.

xoxo

She doesn't ask him anymore if she can drive, and he must've noticed, because even though he doesn't hand her the keys as they leave the diner, he does press a kiss to her temple.

Thankfully, he also pulls away before she can ask him _what on Earth _that kiss is supposed to mean.

They're back to companionable silence now, with jokes occasionally falling from his lips, and inquisitive wonderments occasionally spilling from hers.

"Where are we going?" she finally asks—she's been dying to know, ever since they drove right through Virginia.

"North Carolina. The Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge." He gives her an impish grin. "Thought you might wanna look at some nature. And _don't _tell me you're not the nature sort of girl, Ziva. You need to know about the flora and fauna of the United States, and I am here to educate you on it."

Her lips twitch as she suppresses a retort about his not exactly being the best candidate to guide a nature tour. "The flora and fauna of North Carolina is hardly representative of the U.S."

"True, but they've enough nice and safe-looking trails for me to consider taking us there. Plus, we pass by it on the way to where I really want to bring you—the Rocky Mount Mills in … well, Rocky Mount."

"And what do the Rocky Mount Mills produce?"

"Cotton, I think, but that was a century ago so I doubt they have any left. They do, however, have a nice historic village … I figured I'd just drive through it and let you see the houses. You seem to like … historic … cultural … stuffs."

She smiles at him, a warm feeling spreading through her body. "I think I'll like the houses."

xoxo

Alligator River turns out to be more fun than either of them expected, so it is already mid-afternoon when they turn back onto the highway. It takes two hours to get to Rocky Mount, and she endures his sporadic laments for the entire journey about the lack of wild animals in a wildlife refuge.

"Tony, it's the afternoon. The animals are probably hiding somewhere darker and cooler," she finally tells him.

He pouts. "So I'm a bad planner. But you'd think the animals would take that into account."

She pats his arm comfortingly. "We still had fun, though."

"Yeah. We did."

"No worries, then."

He gives her a crooked smile and slows down as they get onto the road leading to the Historical Mill Village. "No, I guess not."

xoxo

She can feel his eyes on her, constantly switching between watching the road and watching her look at the houses.

"What?" he asks when a strangled sound escapes her throat.

"I'm just wondering if we'd be allowed to look inside the houses."

He chortles. "Well, people actually live in them, so I'm not sure … I guess it depends on the owner?"

"People live in these houses?" She turns back to him, surprised. "That explains the cars in the driveways."

"Website says they're occupied, at any rate. You buy a house, rehabilitate it, live in it, and treat it real nice or have the government after you." She stares at him. "I'm not kidding! There was a whole list of rules about what you can and cannot do to the house and yard, and this is besides any building codes."

"Well, that makes sense. They are historical buildings."

"Yeah, but it's so much trouble. I think I'd just build a new house and make it look like an old one."

She laughs and shakes her head. "I would agree, but only because I'm too lazy to do any restoration work. I do get it, though. Maybe there is value in knowing that something has a history."

She turns to look out of the RV windows again, and it isn't long before she feels his gaze return once more to her.

xoxo

They check into an RV park further down North Carolina at 8.30PM, and nine-thirty has her stretched out across their vehicle's couch, listlessly flipping through TV channels while he sits behind her in the dinette and busies himself with his laptop. She pushes herself up eventually and turns off the television before peering over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Checking if I've bad planning for tomorrow," he answers without looking at her.

"And if you do?"

"I _don't_, but if I do … I don't know. I guess we'll have a lot of free time, because I never came up with a backup plan." His shoulders sag.

"That's okay." She rests her palm against his nape, her thumb stroking his skin. "We can just drive around and talk, yes?"

"Yeah. But this is supposed to be a road trip, not a talk show. I should've planned better." She remains silent, not knowing what to say. He shuts down his laptop. "Come on, we gotta go to bed. Gotta get up early tomorrow."

"How early?"

"Between six-thirty and seven."

"That's not early."

"Yeah, but I was up at three-thirty this morning, and you probably didn't wake up much later than that."

"I was up at three forty-five."

"See?" He gives her a half-hearted smile and slides out of the dinette bench, looping his arm around hers. "Come on."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**4.30AM and 8.30PM is 04:30 and 20:30 on the 24-hour clock, respectively. (And yes, I know most of you already know that.)**

_**RV **_**stands for "recreational vehicle," or a motor home. It is a large vehicle designed for recreational/living purposes—in Tony and Ziva's case, it has a bedroom, a bathroom with a shower, a kitchen with a fridge and microwave, a slide-out dinette, and a couch which faces the RV door.**

_**I-95**_** stands for Interstate 95 and is the main highway on the U.S. East Coast.**

**The **_**Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge **_**is a wildlife refuge built with the intention of protecting and preserving, as well as providing habitat for, several endangered and wildlife species. Website: www(dot)fws(dot)gov(slash)**

**The **_**Rocky Mount Mills Historic Mill Village **_**is a historic village on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places; it grew as a result of the increasing number of people working in the nearby cotton mill, and has now-rehabilitated houses built between 1885 and 1940. Website: rockymountmills(dot)com(slash)**


	3. Day Two

**Here it is: The second day of their trip!**

**This chapter contains talk on religion and the supernatural. I have my own views on these topics, but they are not expressed in the story; what is written in this chapter is what I think are Tony's views, Ziva's views, and the views of the people connected to the places they visit. Needless to say, it may or may not agree with your own views, so please proceed with caution.**

**Or skip the chapter (which would make me sad, but I'd understand). Haha!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Two<strong>

"This ship reminds me of something."

"What?" He moves forward and tilts his head, inspecting the cardboard cut-out of a sailor waiting in line for food. "You know, this is creepy. They should have faces painted on these things. They're like ghosts waiting for chow, or something…"

She shudders against her will. "I was going to say that it reminds me of the Chimera."

He blinks, distracted, and glances back at her. "Well, this one has no rats."

"You don't think it has a certain air? Particularly with these sailors standing in the galley."

"You realize the Chimera was abandoned? Apart from that dead body."

"And the cook, and the lieutenant … Lieutenant … Ferris?"

"How do you remember this stuff?"

"It's a curse. My point is that it is very similar to the Chimera."

They step out of the galley and go further down the USS North Carolina, following the flow of visitors.

"It reminds me of when I was an agent afloat, actually," he speaks up. "I saw one cabin very similar to mine … of course, it didn't have pictures of a bikinied you."

She makes a face at him.

"But," he continues, turning to face her suddenly and causing her to walk into him, "they do say that this ship is haunted."

"By ghosts?"

He frowns down at her. "Do you know anything else that haunts?"

"No."

"Anyway, they say this ship is haunted by two sailors who may've died while the ship was in commission during World War II. And that they walk these decks…"

"How did they die?" she asks, resisting the urge to check over her shoulder for spectres.

"I don't know. Horribly. There were actually like, ten sailors who died, or something. Maybe we'll get to meet them on this tour."

Shooting her a wicked smile, he turns back and proceeds to lead the way.

She can't help but to walk a little closer to him this time.

xoxo

"South Carolina," she observes as they cross state lines, and he grins at her.

"Very good, Miss America. First stop: The UFO Welcome Centre."

"Okay. Firstly, I have been an American for nearly two years, so stop calling me that. Secondly, what is with you and the supernatural today?"

"Tsk, tsk. Touchy. I say it with love, Ziva, and the supernatural thing is just a coincidence—if Gibbs hasn't influenced you into not believing in them. I didn't know about the Battleship's ghost stories until I visited some website with a knack for storytelling."

"You visited a website for _ghost stories_?"

"Came upon it while researching the ship. Did you know the USS North Carolina won fifteen battle stars, by the way?"

"It was written on one of the information boards on the ship."

"You should've left the information boards alone and kept an eye out for the ghosts."

"The information boards are there to be read."

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "You're afraid of the supernatural, aren't you?"

"Not the supernatural."

"Just ghosts?"

"I didn't say that."

"Don't have to say it, Ziva: I can see your legs quaking in your boots."

She checks. "They are not."

He chuckles and makes a right turn. "Yeahhh…"

xoxo

"Don't say it," he warns as they trek back to the RV, and she wisely doesn't. Instead, she gives the more pertinent comment.

"Why does the owner have a UFO in the backyard?"

"Huh. Jody Pendarvis; he's still waiting for the aliens to come collect him. I guess he's an extra-terrestrials enthusiast."

"So the UFO is meant for him to fly off with them?"

"More like, 'To welcome them.' Hence the name." He opens the RV door. "Okay. In all honesty, I knew he might not be home. I just wanted to give it a try."

"But you don't even believe in aliens."

"It's still a UFO. The movie buff in me is screaming right now. I mean, I could've pretended that this was the UFO they used when filming the 1951 version of the _Day the Earth Stood Still_."

She looks doubtfully at what bit of the flying saucer is peeking over the top of the fence. "Really?"

"Well, maybe not. But it might have been the only UFO I'd ever see." He gives her a sad-eyed expression, and she can't find it in herself to laugh at his moroseness.

xoxo

"Wow…" She looks around as he places their water bottles under the pipes of an artesian well at God's Acre Healing Springs, filling the bottles with spring water.

"What?"

"Well, there are just so many people around, waiting to get their share of … God's water."

He eyes her with amusement. "Does this put you off?"

"No. I am just wondering…"

"About what?"

"Whether all these people believe that the water is holy."

He glances around himself. "Or they could be here to check out the place, like us."

"It does have a certain kind of air to it."

He shoots her a glance that is too masked for her to make anything of it, and then caps the bottles.

xoxo

An hour and a half before bed, she is lying on the couch as she was the night before, while he sits beside her on the floor with his head leaning against hers.

"I have a question," she says, and he lifts his head, looking away with a smile from the movie that they're watching.

"Shoot."

"Why don't you believe in God?"

His smile slips, and he blinks at her for a few seconds with an unfathomable expression before turning back and staring hard at the RV's television. "Who says I don't believe in God?"

"Tony." She shifts her body so that she can move closer to him, and from her position she can see his jaw muscles work. "I've known you for almost seven years."

"I don't think I ever talked about God with you in that time."

"Exactly. Abby talks about Him all the time; there is no distancing Abby from her faith. But you have never mentioned your faith."

He sighs and gives in, turning off the TV. Still doesn't meet her eyes. "Do you believe, Ziva?" he asks after a short silence.

"I believe there is a Higher Power."

"Has He ever betrayed you?"

"I don't know … I don't think about Him much."

"There was a time … I used to think about God." He lifts one shoulder and drops it.

"What happened?"

He gives a short, cynical bark of laughter. "I believe they call it a test of faith. 'Cept, y'know, I might've failed."

"How?"

"You're not really supposed to end up mad at God before it's even over."

"So you were mad at God."

"I_ am _mad at God." He clears his throat. "No fun being abandoned by both your father and your Father."

"Hmm."

"If you're going to tell me now that He never really abandoned me, then don't bother. I spent too much time getting over the bitter disappointment the first, and second, and third times 'round."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

He breathes out silently, and then finally meets her eyes. "So what's the deal with you and your God?"

"I guess … it's not really about the faith for me. I believe, but that does not largely impact what I do."

He jerks his chin at her neck. "You wear the Star of David, though."

"Yes, because it is part of my identity." She pauses and thinks about how to explain. "We—the Jews—have been through a lot. There has been a long history of persecution and bloodshed, and … prevalence, despite that. I am proud of that … I am proud of being a part of my culture, I mean. My community. This _Magen David _is like the badges we wear at work. It is a part of who I am. I do not have time for a lot of observances, not with my job; but … this is what I can do to show the world that I am Jewish."

"Wow. That's … cool."

The corners of her lips lift in amusement. "'Cool'?"

"Well, you know what I mean. Just … admirable."

"Thank you." He falls silent, and she studies his profile. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"If all else fails, you still have us—the team. And me."

He smiles. "I know."

He turns the TV back on then, and she's wise enough to hold on tight when his hand finds its way into hers.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**USS North Carolina **_**was one of ten battleships in the U.S. fleet during World War II; she was considered the world's greatest sea weapon at the time of her commissioning. Website: www(dot)battleshipnc(dot)com Website with Ghost Story: www(dot)ghostvillage(dot)com(slash)?showtopic=10690**

**The **_**UFO Welcome Centre**_**, which Jody Pendarvis began building in 1994, is a roadside attraction in South Carolina created with the intention of welcoming aliens when they land on Earth. Website: ww(dot)roadsideamerica(dot)com(slash)story/10911**

_**God's Acre Healing Springs **_**is a patch of land in Blackville, South Carolina, on which a natural spring resides. Locals believe that the spring waters have healing powers. Website: www(dot)scgreatoutdoors(dot)com(slash)**

**A/N #2: I should probably mention that they will not be going through _all _the states in the U.S., haha. Since they won't have the time for it, they'll be spending longer in some states and very little time in some, and skipping some altogether. This is not reflective of how visitable or un-visitable a state is; I'm simply going by whichever I feel will be most efficient (which is, in part, affected by the resources available on the net).**

**-_Soph_**


	4. Day Three

**Just so y'all know, Tony and Ziva get a little less ... neutral ... from now on.**

**You'll see what I mean.**

**But since I'm a Tiva shipper, it must be obvious what I mean.**

**I like being this random.**

**I'll stop now. Lol, enjoy; please review!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

Her eyes fly open at the feel of an arm creeping over her waist, pinning her down sideways on the bed; she has a hand on the cool grip of the gun under her pillow before she realizes that said arm belongs to Tony.

Releasing the gun, she flips over onto her back and finds his large and frightened eyes staring at her. The previously trespassing arm hovers in mid-air. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice hoarse with sleep and shock. "I swear I didn't mean to do that."

She swallows and nods, slowly lowering his hand onto her stomach. "It's okay."

He closes his eyes tightly and buries his face into the pillow, and she suddenly gets the strange feeling that he's holding himself back from saying something.

"What's the matter?" she asks him, and feels his fingers tighten on her waist out of reflex.

"This is probably what happened in Paris," he mutters into his pillow, and she frowns as the memory of waking up in his arms flashes through her mind.

"Tony, it was an accident."

An eye peeks out at her. "I know. Just … y'know, I probably should stop doing that."

"I don't mind if yo—if it happens."

"You don't?" Both eyes emerge. "'Cause … not that I want it to, but we'll be sleeping together for a month, and … it … might … happen a lot." She doesn't answer, so he continues, "I'll go sleep in the dinette from today. I promise I won't complain about my back."

Her breath catches at the idea of her sleeping alone in the large bed, and because his arm is still draped across her stomach, he notices. A confused frown appears on his face. So she just turns onto her side, away from him, and entangles her fingers with the hand that still holds her.

"It's okay," she repeats as she shuts her eyes, and she hopes he never finds out just how much she wants him to stay.

Not too long after, and in the hazy stage between sleep and wake, she feels him shift closer and bury his face into her hair.

xoxo

Thankfully, and unlike in Paris, he doesn't tease her about having slept better in his embrace. Maybe it's because they're both tired from a short night of sleep, but they are strangely quiet at breakfast, and she counts fewer jokes than usual in the time that they've been on the highway.

She doesn't dare to meet his eyes this morning, for fear of seeing regret or repulsion in them. The largest part of her thinks it's not at all likely, but the tiny, almost-unnoticeable part of her that's insecure has the loudest voice.

The beauty of the Cherokee Foothills has her worries temporarily dispelled—she has never been much of a nature girl, yet she can't help but to gape at the mountains. Despite having been around most of the world, she's never seen anything quite as majestic. Her excitement mounts as they drive through a peach orchard, and she makes him stop so that they can buy some peaches.

When he laughs and parks the RV with dancing eyes and an indulgent grin, her heart stumbles over itself.

Just like that, everything between them is right again.

xoxo

"The Historic Banning Mills," he announces as they pull through a set of gates in Whitesburg, Georgia. "This is where you're going zip-lining tomorrow."

"I zip-lined while I was in the Israeli Army," she supplies. He glances at her.

"Did you like it?"

"It was a lot of fun. But the zip line was too short."

He chortles. "Well, the zip lines here are longer, so I'm sure they'll satisfy even your inner Ninja."

"My inner Ninja is easily satisfied. The zip line was just too short."

"How short was it?"

"I don't know, actually. But it was hardly an overwhelming adrenaline rush."

Grinning, he pulls up next to the RV Centre's office. "Well, they do have a free-fall tower here for your adrenaline rush. I bet your inner Ninja would like that."

xoxo

They have some free time after dinner, so they visit a nearby shopping mall and walk around aimlessly for a few hours. For some reason, the bridal gowns in the windows of a shop hold her attention more than anything else, and she feels her heart thump as she stares at the almost-painful white of the sequined dresses. None of the dresses are to her taste, really, but she still mourns her missed chance.

Then he wraps an arm around her shoulders, a subtle pressure to walk away; and as she does, she wonders if a window is closing on her future.

It's almost suicidal to walk right through the Kids section of one of the department stores after that, but they do happen to pass by it, and that's what she does. Wander through the aisles, examining the tiny little dinner sets and smiling over a pair of pink-and-white shoes. He follows her, the concerned look on his face growing. When she finally picks up a pair of eyelet socks, he places a hand over hers.

"Ziva," he says, his tone requesting her to meet his eyes, "don't you think you're going a bit far?"

She puts down the socks without looking at him and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. "How so?"

"Well, you don't actually have a daughter … I mean, do you?"

She chokes out a laugh despite herself. "No, of course not."

"You're kinda going through the Kids section as if you have one."

"Is that sin?"

"No. But it's kinda worrying."

"I am fine."

"Funny thing is, you only ever say that when you're not fine."

She sighs. "I _am _fine. Just a bit … longing, you know? Tony, I never even expected to _live _this long. I thought I was going to die as a result of terrorist bombing, or a mission gone wrong. Or … So-malia. But now I am finally here. Living. With an apartment and a stable income, and friends. It just feels like I should be allowed to dream, but I … I have…"

He presses her to his chest, and she tries hard not to cry. "You're allowed to dream, Ziva," he whispers softly as he rubs her back.

"There is no point in dreaming if your dreams are in vain."

"Your dreams aren't in vain."

"_How do you know?_ What proof do you ha—"

"You're just too special not to get your American Dream, Ziva … too incredible."

"That is not true."

"I think it is."

Another choked laugh escapes her lips. _If only…. _She lets go of him eventually and straightens up, her chin lifting. "Thank you, Tony."

He gently tucks her hair behind her ear, and her composure almost wavers again. And then he wraps a warm hand around hers. "Come on. Let's go home."

xoxo

She's exhausted by the time they get back to the RV, so she just collapses onto her side of the bed without bothering to wait for him. The last thing she remembers before succumbing to sleep is the sound of the tap running.

* * *

><p><strong>The <strong>_**Cherokee Foothills Scenic Highway, **_**also known as South Carolina Highway 11, is a scenic byway that is 115 miles long and runs along the Blue Ridge Mountains in the northwest corner of South Carolina. Website: byways(dot)org(slash)explore/byways/2161**

**The **_**Historic Banning Mills **_**is a retreat and conservation centre with zip line tours and a free fall tower (and, apparently, a freestanding climbing wall that … hadn't been mentioned at the time that I wrote this chapter o.o). Website: www(dot)historicbanningmills(dot)com(slash)/home**

**And yes, the shopping mall they went to actually exists :D it has two department stores and one bridal boutique. Just so you know! Hehe.**

**-_Soph_**


	5. Day Four

**Day Four**

She wakes up to the sound of snoring in her ear and finds, to her surprise, that she's tucked safely in his hold again. She's on her back this time, her neck supported by his arm; she can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against her own appendage. It's quite like how they had found themselves waking up in Paris.

Too bad she can't make a habit out of it.

She lifts the arm that lies across her stomach as gently as possible, and he grunts softly into her ear before flipping onto his back and leaving her with a clear escape route. She slips off the bed and pads quietly out of the room.

He emerges half an hour later, after she's already brewed herself some tea and settled into the dinette to think about things.

"No breakfast?" he asks sleepily, eyeing the empty table. She resists the urge to tell him that his hair is sticking up like a porcuswine.

"I'm not hungry."

He doesn't answer, but sticks his head into a cabinet and pulls out a jar of jam instead. Then he busies himself with making a sandwich. "You still look kinda depressed."

"Well…"

"Do you still love Ray?" he questions softly, abruptly, almost as if he's not sure he wants to know the answer. Her eyes widen.

"No, of course not. It has been three months."

"Just wondering, y'know, 'cause…"

"It's not Ray that I was thinking about."

"Oh." He carries the sandwich over to the table, putting the plate down in front of her. "Eat. You need your strength for the zip lines."

"You're not eating."

"I'm not going. Zip lines supposedly bad for people with respiratory problems. I don't know _how _bad a respiratory problem they mean, but I don't wanna chance it with my … useless set of scarred lungs and all."

"But then why did you bring us here?"

Surprise flits across his face as he slides onto the bench opposite her. "For you. Thought you might wanna try the zip lines."

"Alone?"

"Well, it's not like I'm sending you off into the middle of an abandoned forest."

She shrugs and takes an obliging bite of the sandwich.

xoxo

Zip-lining turns out to be as much of an adrenaline rush as he had predicted, but the one time she makes the mistake of looking over her shoulder, she realizes he is not there. Her laughter fades on her lips, and the adrenaline rush isn't as great after that. She finishes the first tour and sets off back towards the RV, because she can't bear the thought of having fun while he sits alone and bores himself out of his mind.

Unusually, he has his head buried in a book when she opens the RV door. He jumps, and the book disappears from the table top, but not before she sees its cover.

"Is that one of mine?" she asks, resisting the urge to laugh.

He sheepishly returns the book to the table. "I was bored."

"I thought you would be watching a movie, or maybe sleeping."

He blinks. "Never thought of the movies, for some reason. And I'd slept enough."

"Hmm."

"You're back fast. The zip lines usually take hours. Of course, you're a ninja…" he trails off thoughtfully, and she takes the opportunity to shut the RV door and sit down in the dinette.

"I have a question."

"This sounds familiar."

"Well, _this _one is not of a spiritual nature. Tony … did you plan this trip for me?"

"I didn't plan it for Gibbs."

"Tony," she chides. "I have … noticed that what we do are mostly things you think I would like or should know about, and not things you like."

He shrugs. "I'm having fun too."

"By sitting in here and reading my books?"

"Hey, this is only one time. I was there the other times."

"I know. But it…" She bites her lip. "It wasn't that fun at the zip lines without you."

"Oh."

"I wanted to come on this trip with _you_ because … that is what we do. We have fun together. I don't need a babysitter, Tony. I need … someone I can share memories … with."

"_Oh._"

"Stop saying that," she snaps in irritation, already regretting her disclosure.

"Uh … I'll … I'll … I don't know…?"

She snorts and shakes her head. "Look, we need to pick activities that we will both enjoy. Yes? Or, at least, come to a better compromise."

"I got the whole month planned out, though."

"Hmm. Can we keep some of it and change some of the rest?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Then we should do that. I do appreciate how hard you planned this, Tony, but … I would rather know that you want to be on this trip, too."

"Okay." He gives her a small smile. "For the record, though, I like babysitting you."

She makes a face at him. "Funny, DiNozzo."

xoxo

"The Centre for Puppetry Arts?" she asks sceptically over lunch. "Since when are you interested in puppets?"

"What? They had a poster advertising _wayang kulit _at the door." She must have looked even more sceptical, because he elaborates, "Indonesian shadow puppets."

"And how do you know about these?"

"Believe it or not, I actually know stuff sometimes." She raises her eyebrows, and he sullenly relents. "It was written on the poster—I read it when we walked by. But they looked fascinating. Poster says the puppets are made from hide. Have you ever seen puppets made of hide?"

"No," she admits.

"Yeah. So, why not? We don't have anywhere else to go, anyway."

She ignores her guilt at having ruined his well-made plans and nods. "Okay. It sounds fun."

xoxo

"So…" he begins apprehensively as they drive along Georgia's Highway 140, and she knows what he wants to ask.

"It was fun," she answers truthfully.

"Puppets not bad?"

"The puppets were very nice," she concedes, and she means it.

He breathes out and visibly relaxes. "Thought you were gonna decide I wasn't the kinda guy you wanted to go on a road trip with, after all."

"Why would I decide that?"

He shrugs. "We have quite different tastes."

"Yes, but I have Movie Nights with you and caught you reading my book this morning. I think we are fine."

He laughs. "The book thing was just once. And I thought you like Movie Nights."

"I do." She doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't ask. "Where are we going next?"

"RV park in Alabama, and Tennessee tomorrow."

"Why are we going through Alabama if we're headed to Tennessee?"

"Well, I found it my duty to bring you through as many states as possible…"

"I see." She didn't, really.

"We can drive around Alabama tomorrow if you want, but then we'll have to skip Tennessee and go straight to Kentucky because the RV park I booked for tomorrow is there, and it's a … five-hour drive from Birmingham, maybe."

"Tony, how much do the RV parks cost?" she asks, something suddenly occurring to her.

"Around thirty-five dollars a night, plus tax. Why?"

"And how much did renting the RV cost?"

"Um … an amount of money."

"Tony."

"A few thousand."

"How did you get that amount of money?"

"I've a lot saved up from all the overtime."

She feels her mouth fall open. "Did you use your savings on this trip?"

"I didn't rob Gibbs, if that's what you're asking." She narrows her eyes at him, and he must've felt it even though he wasn't looking at her, because he gulps and says, "Yes."

"I will pay you back for half of it."

He shrugs again but doesn't comment, and she takes that as agreement. Leaning back into her seat, though, she finds herself thoroughly shocked at the idea that he was willing to spend so much money on a trip just for her.

xoxo

He is standing and staring guiltily at her when she steps back into their vehicle after an hour of doing laundry.

"I was planning to do mine after cleaning the RV," he offers as she places the baskets on the couch. "I mean … y'know, I didn't know you'd taken my hamper…"

"Well, I was going to do mine, anyway." She sniffs the air. "Did you make dinner?"

"Yeah. 'Cause … well, you did my laundry, and I had some free time … did you take _everything?_" He looks at her in alarm.

She frowns. "What do you mean, did I take everything?"

"I mean … you did … my … underwear?"

She jerks her head at his basket of clothing, trying not to be too tempted to laugh at his horror. "It's all in your basket."

He splutters, but apparently decides there is no good answer to that. Instead, he just waves his hand vaguely at the table. "Dinner."

She chuckles and walks over to her bench. "Don't worry. I did not discover anything undesirable."

His only response is more spluttering.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Centre for Puppetry Arts **_**in Atlanta is an organization dedicated to the art form of puppetry; they have a museum exhibiting puppets from all around the world and puppet performances for most of the year (some of which are age 18+ only). I don't actually know whether they have **_**wayang kulit **_**on display, but they do have shadow puppets, and **_**wayang kulit **_**is pretty well-known where I come from, so…. Website: www(dot)puppet(dot)org(slash)**

**For those of you who may be unfamiliar with U.S. Geography (like me before writing this fic), Tony and Ziva were travelling southwards from Maryland (where DC is) down to South Carolina, and are now moving more or less horizontally across the U.S., towards the Pacific Coast/West Coast.**

**Thank you for reading; please review!**

**-_Soph_**


	6. Days Five & Six

**Here it is! Forgive me if this seems less edited than usual; my mum keeps interrupting me every five minutes with stuff she's reading in the papers. Gagh.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Five<strong>

The next day is a Sunday on which not many attractions are open, so they spend most of it travelling in the RV, with the exception of a three-and-a-half-hour visit to the Hermitage in Nashville, Tennessee.

They use up thirty minutes on a wagon ride around the grounds, and more than an hour touring the mansion and the Garden; by the end of the visit, she's garnered considerable knowledge on President Andrew Jackson, and one completely irrelevant fact—that there's a Nashville in North Carolina, too. She learns this courtesy of Tony and, in repayment of his kindness towards her in the past five days, spares him from an eye roll.

They are back on the road after lunch and arrive in Elizabethtown, Kentucky, in the evening. Dinner is a joint effort; he slices and dices while she boils and sautés. They take their time, so that it is nine o'clock at night before everything has been eaten and all dishes have been washed.

They stay up till midnight, planning their schedule for the next week and pretending to watch a movie; but by now she's seen all movies he owns, really, so they are both well-aware that she's only humouring him when she agrees to watch the _Prestige _with him.

Bedtime is awkward again, because although she's woken up in his arms for two out of the five days that they've been on the trip, they're still not in the habit of going to sleep in that same position. So she simply climbs into bed and wishes him 'Goodnight' with a small smile, and then turns onto her side, away from him.

Her heart stops painfully when she eventually feels the mattress shift in a manner which suggests that he's turning away from her, too.

xoxo

**Day Six**

He awakens beside her with a cry, and she has a hand groping for the gun underneath her pillow again, her heart racing, before she realizes that the only other person in the room is him.

"Tony, you have to stop waking me up like that," she groans tiredly as the adrenaline wears off. He cringes.

"Sorry. I get nightmares sometimes."

"What are the nightmares about?" She frowns; in the light of early morning, she has the impression that he's still looking vaguely frightened.

"Nothing." He swallows. "I never know … I just wake up sorta freaked out, and then the nightmare is gone. I've tried to figure out what it is over the years, but … it … never mind."

He turns to face her and brushes her cheek lightly, telling her to go back to sleep; and then he closes his eyes, and she knows that the conversation is closed. There is nothing left for her to do other than to return to sleep.

When they wake up again, she finds that they have a silent agreement not to bring up the topic.

xoxo

"I am still not over my surprise that you like antique cars," she announces as they walk towards Swope's Cars of Yesteryear Museum in Elizabethtown.

"Ziva, these cars have appeared in _movies_ before," he emphasises, and it's testament to how well she knows him that she finds that adequate explanation. "These cars, or similar models. Good movies, bad movies. Famous movies. Not-so-fa—"

"Okay! I get it."

"Like the 1936 Rolls Royce Phantom III that was used in _Telefoni bianchi _in—"

"White telephones?" she translates, frowning. "There is a movie called _White Telephones_?"

"Well, the English title's actually the _Career of a Chambermaid_, but my—"

"Does she answer a lot of white-coloured telephones, or something?"

He snorts. "Trust you to be so 'Ziva,' even in Italian. No, she's a chambermaid who becomes a film star."

"Oh."

"She was a prostitute before film star, though."

"Oh."

"And a singer."

"I sense an identity crisis."

"It's a _comedy_: they're allowed to have identity crises in them. Agostina Belli, the lead actress, won the David di Donatello award for best actress for it. That's like the Oscars!"

"Right. And since when do you watch Italian movies?"

"I'm Italian!" he says indignantly, and she rolls her eyes.

"You don't even speak Italian."

"_Parlo poco l'italiano._"

"Being able to say that you speak some Italian doesn't count. _I _speak more Italian than you do."

He wilts considerably. "There were English subtitles, okay?"

She laughs and pats his arm in a peace-making gesture. "Okay. When we get there, I will let you tell me all about the movies. Yes?"

He cheers up, and the spring in his step returns. "Have I ever told you that you are amazing, Ziva David?"

xoxo

She endures three hours of talk on cars in movies, and by the time they reach their next destination, she has been well-educated on the history of every Ford, LaSalle, and Rolls Royce that ever appeared in a film. She feels a slight headache starting to form on the bridge of her nose; trying to remember everything he told her has turned out to be harder than she thought.

She is given a moment's rest as they follow a tour guide through the Maker's Mark Distillery and learn about the whiskey-making process; an indulgent smile comes upon her face while she watches him attempt to form his own wax seal on a bottle of whiskey.

He joins her in wandering through the gift shop after the bottle-dipping.

"I used to have a lot of these," he tells her, picking up a decanter and studying it.

"You do not anymore?" she asks in surprise; she remembers having seen decanters in his apartment a few times.

He shakes his head. "Threw them all out, after … Jenny. When I got back from the ship, I wasn't too eager to start back on the drinking patterns … I mean, every time…"

She wraps her hand around his. "I'm glad you stopped."

"I still drink, you know."

"I know. But not as much as you used to, yes?"

"Yeah."

She nods, satisfied, and proceeds to look through the rest of the items in the gift shop.

xoxo

He groans and sits down hard in the chair just inside the RV's door the moment they return from the trails at the Big Bone Lick State Park. She chuckles at him, shaking her head.

"You are too out of shape, Tony," she scolds as he struggles feebly with his boots. She kicks off her own boots and obligingly helps him with his before putting both pairs by the door and heading into the kitchen to get started on dinner.

"I am _not,_" he retorts after catching his breath. "You're just too in shape."

"Is there such a thing?"

"Sure. You know those women weight-lifters…"

She narrows her eyes at him. "Are you saying I am _buff_?"

"Um … no…"

"I used to train a lot harder." She sticks her head into a cabinet of canned goods.

"You don't train as hard anymore?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"No competition, no will … and no point. I am not a Mossad officer anymore."

"You could always be a tough NCIS agent."

She pulls out two cans and closes the cabinet doors. "NCIS does not require as many fighting skills as Mossad does. I have to say that I miss training as hard as I had. But I am looking for a lifestyle change, and I do not have time for everything."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Just thinking 'bout how much you've changed."

She abandons the cans and leans against the counter, chewing on her lip as she watches him. "Do you think I've changed for the better, Tony?"

He shrugs. "Yeah. Mostly I think you're just different, though. Not better or worse."

"… That's comforting." She turns back to the cans, trying to hide the twinge of sadness that runs through her at knowing that he doesn't think she's become a better person.

"Ziva, you were always intent on saving the world and doing the right thing. Can't get much better than that."

She bites back the blush that threatens to colour her cheeks. "You are so full of it."

He gives her the miniature version of a DiNozzo grin and joins her at the range, standing close enough to make her heart flutter. "So what are we making tonight, Miss America?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Before he became the seventh President of the United States, the **_**Hermitage **_**was home to Andrew Jackson and his family. Bought in 1804 by Andrew Jackson and transformed from a two-storey log farmhouse into 1, 000-acre cotton plantation with a dairy, cotton gin and press, and other outbuildings, the **_**Hermitage **_**served as home to Andrew Jackson before his presidency, and after his retirement from office in 1837 until his death in 1845. Website: www(dot)thehermitage(dot)com**

_**Swope's Cars of Yesteryear Museum **_**is a museum that features cars from the early 1900s to the 1960s of all makes and models. Some of these cars, naturally, are models that have appeared in movies before (although that's not the point of the museum). Website: www(dot)swopemuseum(dot)com(slash)index(dot)asp**

_**Telefoni bianchi, **_**or the **_**Career of a Chambermaid, **_**is an Italian comedy from 1976 starring Agnostina Belli as the female lead—a girl who goes from being a chambermaid to becoming a prostitute, a singer, a film star, and then mistress to **_**Il Duce. **_**And I disclaim the accuracy of my summary because I can't read Italian and only have English reviews to go by … haha! Website: www(dot)imdb(dot)com(slash)title/tt0075318/**

**The **_**Maker's Mark Distillery **_**produces bourbon whiskey sold in squarish bottles which are individually hand-dipped into hot red wax to form seals. Visitors are allowed to dip their own bottles in the gift shop, but you have to be over 21. Website (you can only enter if you're above 21): www(dot)makersmark(dot)com(slash)#home**

**The **_**Big Bone Lick State Park **_**in Union, Kentucky, was once home to animals of the Pleistocene Era (the most recent Ice Age), including mammoths and mastodons. It contains the remains of these animals and has a 4.5-mile Discovery Trail that showcases a bog diorama, a bison herd, and a salt-sulphur spring. Website: parks(dot)ky(dot)gov(slash)**parks/recreationparks/big-bone-lick/default(dot)aspx****


	7. Day Seven

**Day Seven**

"You have extremely limited interests," she teases as they drive down the I-74, headed for their next destination: the Fairmount Historical Museum in Indiana.

"What?" he asks with incredulity. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, Tony, in the time that I've known you, ninety per cent of everything you say and do is related to movies."

He frowns. "That's not true. And how do you come up with those numbers?"

"They are a rough estimate, give or take five per cent."

His eyebrows draw together in thought, and it is a few seconds before he says, "You really think I'm that two-dimensional?"

She laughs. "No. But you think about movies a lot. I mean, look where we're going now."

"Hey, the museum hosts more than James Dean stuff."

"Okay. What do they host?" she challenges.

"Uh … Garfield! Stuff. And the … y'know … history of Fairmount stuff."

She snickers. "Almost."

He sobers and asks quietly, "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

She softens. "No, the museum is fine. I was just teasing you, Tony."

"You travelled a lot with Ray," he mentions abruptly, and she stiffens.

"You need to stop bringing Ray up."

"Sorry." He falls silent, but she notices an odd tension in the way he grips the steering wheel. She sighs.

"_What?_"

"What 'what?'"

"_What_ about my having travelled with Ray?"

"Just wondering if expensive ski trips are more to your taste."

She shrugs. "They were nice. So is this."

The tension doesn't leave. "Okay."

"Why are you wondering?"

"Just want you to be happy, Ziva."

She blinks, understanding suddenly coming to her. "Tony, I _am _happy. Clearly, not right now, but I am happy we're doing this … okay?"

It's his turn to shrug. "Yeah, okay," he answers reluctantly, but she can tell he doesn't believe her.

As she makes a mental note to herself to bring up the topic again later, a large part of her starts to wonder why he's comparing himself to her ex-boyfriend.

She hasn't drawn a parallel between the two since she broke up with Ray, certainly, and she doesn't know when _he _started doing that.

xoxo

They stay in Indiana long enough only to tour the museum and then buy lunch to have on the road; he grudgingly lets her drive while he takes his turn with having lunch, and she grudgingly stays within speed limits so that his food won't go flying everywhere. She can tell he is grateful for that when he suggests he _might _let her drive again some other time.

They cross state lines into Illinois in the middle of the afternoon, and it is half past three in the afternoon when they finally set foot into the building _she _wants to visit: the Jane Addams Book Shop. She immediately sets out wandering through the three floors; he settles himself down in the section containing Spy Fiction and leaves her to explore as she pleases.

At ten to 7PM, he finds her in the Foreign Language section, where she is busying herself with trying to find books she can use to brush up on Pashtu. He chuckles at the small pile of books she holds in her left hand.

"Find what you need?" he asks, inching closer to study the titles.

"Yes and no." She pulls a volume off the shelf and adds it to the pile. "Are we leaving now?"

"Yeah. It's almost seven."

"I'm not done looking," she says disappointedly, and he chuckles again.

"I wish we could stay, Zi, but they do have operating hours."

"I know." She gives the bookshelf one last look. "Let's go, then."

"Yeah." He scoops the stack of books from her arms and leads the way out of the room, leaving her to gape at him all the way down to the cashier's counter.

xoxo

She jerks her books out of his reach as they exit the book shop, and he hastily withdraws the arms he had held out to take them from her.

"Tony." She sighs and stops walking, so that he has to pause mid-stride and turn back to look at her. "What are you doing?"

He shifts on his feet. "What? I thought the books were heavy."

"I can handle them, and that is not the point. You have been acting weird all day."

"Weird, how? Particularly loud? Particularly funny?"

"No. Just … carrying my things? And why did you bring Ray up this morning?"

"I didn't know he was a taboo topic." He swallows. "I'm sorry."

"He will always be a taboo topic," she answers bitterly, and then takes a deep breath. "That is not what I meant to ask. I need to know … if there is anything you want to tell me."

He clears his throat. "Well, y'know, nothing apart from that it's weird we're having this conversation in the middle of a walkway."

"Does that mean we can continue this when we get back to the RV?" she persists.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, and finally grits out, "Not if it means I'll wake up the next morning to find you took off and hitchhiked all the way back to DC 'cause you couldn't stand whatever I had to tell you. Ziva, this is not a good idea, okay? Please don't ask me."

"I want to know," she pushes gently, taking a tiny step closer. "I won't run away. I promise."

"I don't wanna spoil this trip for both of us."

"You won't." She shifts her books onto one arm so that she can take up his hand, and he twitches. "Tony, we argue and we make up, you know that. That's what we do. But I'm not keen on letting it return to the way we were … three years ago, and I will never, _ever, _let it get to that point again. You have my word."

"Still…" He shifts on his feet again and sighs. "This is hard."

"I know." She rubs her thumb comfortingly against his skin. "But we have to be honest with each other … we need to do this. Yes?"

He nods sombrely. "Ziva, have you ever thought that our honesty might really screw us up?"

"How?"

"I don't know. Just … really mess with our heads."

She shrugs. "Lies messed with our heads. We have to try honesty."

He looks away, trying to gather his courage. Then his eyes meet hers again, and he seems to have found his resolve when he says, "Can I give you my word I will tell you before this trip ends?"

She chews on her lip and eventually nods. "Yes."

He breathes out a sigh of relief. "Can we go home now?"

She laughs. "Yes. And here…"

Dumping the books unceremoniously into his hands, she smirks at him and walks on ahead. He chuckles and, upon catching up to her in one stride, tickles her neck until she squeals and smacks his arm.

xoxo

She feels his hand drape over her stomach at some point in the middle of the night, but this time, she doesn't reach for her gun. The cool metal weapon forsaken, she buries her face in the warm curve of his neck instead. She falls asleep to the smell of musk, soap, and safety.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**I-74 **_**is a highway that runs horizontally across the US, passing through Indiana and Illinois, among other states.**

**The **_**Fairmount Historical Museum **_**was founded in 1975 to hold artefacts from the Fairmount Academy and the Fairmount High School, two educational institutions which are no longer open. It also holds artefacts from the town of Fairmount, along with tributes to two Fairmount natives—James Dean, a famous actor who died in 1955 at the age of 24; and Jim Davis, the creator of the comic strip **_**Garfield**_**. Website: www(dot)jamesdeanartifacts(dot)com(slash)index(dot)html**

**The **_**Jane Addams Book Shop **_**is an independent book store in Champaign, Illinois, which sells everything from Whodunits and works in Latin. Website: www(dot)janeaddamsbooks(dot)com**

**Hope you enjoyed; please review!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	8. Day Eight

**Day Eight**

"Ziva," he whispers into her ear, and she turns her head away. "Ziva."

"What?" she groans.

"It's six-fifteen," he tells her, a hint of laughter in his voice, "we gotta get up."

"I don't want to get up…"

A hand gently brushes her hair away from her face. "Are you that tired? You're always up before me."

"I like sleeping."

"My arm makes that good a pillow, huh?" he asks, actually chuckling now.

She turns back and realizes that her head is still tucked neatly against his shoulder. "Sorry."

"It's gotten kinda numb."

She sits up, and he does the same while massaging his arm. "You could have pushed me off you."

"You would've gone ninja on me." He gives her a tiny smile. "I also kinda liked it."

She blinks, surprised: not because the information is startling, but because she never expected him to admit to as much. _Honesty before lies, right? _She swallows and looks away, whispering a confession of her own, "I like … that you like it."

There is a few seconds' silence before he strokes her hair once and crawls off the bed. "Let's get breakfast."

xoxo

"Are you sure I can't bring my knife?" she asks anxiously as they enter Saint Louis; she'd forgotten about the "No Weapons" rule at the Gateway Arch after they first looked up the monument, until now.

"Yeah, Ziva, I'm sure." He shakes his head. "You know, you're too reliant on that knife."

"It keeps me safe."

"It's not like you don't know hand-to-hand combat. Besides, there won't be any terrorists waiting up there to attack you."

"They have that security checkpoint for a reason."

He glances at her. "You'll be fine, Ziva."

"I know … logically. Just…"

"Hey, I'll be there. If that helps."

She purses her lips and nods. _That does help, a little bit._ "Okay," she sighs.

He doesn't say anything more until they reach their destination (the Old Courthouse), but he takes up her hand as she exits the RV, and walks the entire way by her side.

She finds it strange that the simple contact makes her feel so protected.

xoxo

"This is small," she comments quietly to him as they enter the tram to go up the Gateway Arch, and he shoots her a worried look.

"You okay?" He wraps his hand even more tightly around hers.

She furrows her brows, confused. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uhm. Nothing." He shakes his head and pulls them down into two seats. "I've heard the Arch shakes a bit with the wind."

"I'm okay with shaking."

"Okay."

They fall silent as the tram starts moving, and she peers out the window. "I see a lot of staircases."

He laughs. "You'll see the view at the top. Patience, young grasshopper." She makes a face at him and settles back into her seat.

It takes four minutes to reach the top; she pulls him eagerly to one of the windows after the tram door opens, and he follows her, laughing. She leans forward and presses her face to the window. "I see it!"

"See what?" He leans forward too, his face barely touching hers. She feels odd tingles on her skin.

"Saint Louis," she answers jubilantly, shifting a bit so that he can have a better look. His eyes meet hers for a second.

"I didn't know you like Saint Louis so much."

"I didn't know what it was like. But I have never done this before."

He pulls away from the window, distracted. "You mean you've never seen Saint Louis from the top before, right?"

"I've never been in an observation room without a suspect on the other side before."

"You're kidding."

She looks up at him. "Well. I have seen cities from helicopters and airplanes before. And rooftops are very good for bird-eye views. But I have never … deliberately ascended a high building just to look at the view."

"_Why not?_"

"When could it have happened?"

His mouth falls open, but he wisely decides to leave the question rhetorical. Instead, he tugs on her hand and leads her over to the opposite side of the room.

"Look," he says, urging her to gaze out of the window with him. "See that? That's the Mississippi River. And over there is Illinois. Well, part of it, anyway."

She feels her lips curve into a huge smile as she takes in the view with him.

xoxo

"Trust you to enjoy a movie, even when it's an hour long and not about car chases." She laughs and gently slaps his hand away as he reaches forward to steal her fries.

He juts out his bottom lip and nurses his hand. "That was spectacular cinematography. And it had Red Indians in it. What's not to love?"

"Native Americans," she corrects. "That _was_ a pretty good movie."

He steals a fry after all. "See? Even you love it."

"Why do you keep stealing my fries?" She frowns down at his plate. "You have your own. Eat yours."

"Yours taste better."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Do you want to switch fries?"

"It's the thrill of a successful steal that makes the fry delicious, Ziva."

She plucks one from his plate and puts it into her mouth. "It doesn't taste any different."

He shakes his head in despair. "And I thought I made progress in teaching you to have fun."

"They're _fries, _Tony."

"It's not about the fries, young grasshopper. It's about the joys of food sharing."

"You mean 'stealing.'"

"I thought you used to steal my food," he says, a frown creasing his brow as if the thought has suddenly occurred to him. She shifts uncomfortably.

"A lot of things have changed since then."

He blinks. "I don't want this to change, Ziva." His voice is quiet.

She simply nods, finding that she lacks the words to tell him that she fears it's too late.

He watches her for a few more seconds before poking a fry from his plate with a fork and reaching in from across the table. "Open up."

She obeys—albeit with great puzzlement—and he pops the fry into her mouth. She chews and swallows. "What was that for?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, although his grip on the fork probably betrays his nerves. "If we can't do the stealing anymore, then we might as well try the sharing, right?"

Her lips curl into a small smile. "Right."

He grins and happily pokes up another fry, holding it across the table again. "More." She rolls her eyes and chuckles, but lets him feed her, anyway.

He does so until his plate is emptied of fries.

xoxo

"Movie," he says, flopping down next to her on the bed and rolling onto his stomach to tug at the hem of her shirt. She swats his hand away, her eyes never leaving her book.

"I want to read."

"Movie's more interesting."

"Only for you, and we watched one this morning."

"That doesn't count! That was part of the road trip. This is just … bonding time."

She snorts. "Bonding time?"

"Yeah. Getting to know you better and all that crap."

She lays her book down and looks at him in amusement. "'All that crap'?"

"Not that getting to know you is crap. I just already know everything about you."

"You wish." She picks up her book again, but he lays a hand on it, stopping her.

"I do." His face is serious; his eyes swirl with an unidentifiable emotion as she stares at him, her heart suddenly racing.

She clears her throat and tries to keep her voice steady. "What would you like to know, then?"

"Just something I don't already."

She chews on her lip and ruminates. It isn't that she purposely wishes to keep things from him; she's just collected so many secrets over the years that she no longer knows where to start. Her heart thuds on strongly as he keeps his eyes on her, making her feel like running away as fast as she can.

In the end, she sighs and settles for the easiest truth. "I still miss my sister."

"Tali," he says, and her eyes meet his in surprise.

"Yes. You remember."

"I didn't make a conscious decision to remember it," he answers as he shifts up the bed to lean against the headboard, "we were enemies then. But it sorta occurred to me that one time you mentioned her after we'd become friends, and I thought she seemed important to you. You get that look in your eyes when you mention her."

"What look?"

He shrugs. "The one that says you miss her, maybe."

She feels tears prick the back of her eyes. "Oh."

He gently pulls her to him. "So, what was she like?"

xoxo

Almost two hours later, she finds herself thoroughly exhausted as she rests her head against his shoulder and lets him play with her fingers. She has told him everything that she never told anyone about her sister, including how jealous of Tali she had been when they were younger and how, in a fit of that jealousy, she had once cut Tali's figure out of every photograph she had of her sister.

He, in turn, has shared what it was like growing up as an only child; he told her of the few nights he had spent praying to God for a baby brother or sister, and of the many days he had spent feeling as if the weight of his entire family's existence rested on his shoulders.

He fiddles absent-mindedly with her fingers now, still caught up in thinking about the past. She raises her head to look at him. "Tony?"

He lets go of her fingers guiltily. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything."

Surprise flickers through his eyes. "What did I do?"

"You are here." There's only a slight pause before she tells him the whole truth. "That matters."

He breaks into a warm smile and pulls her even closer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Gateway Arch **_**in Saint Louis, Missouri, is the tallest monument in the U.S. at 630 feet (192.02 metres). It is a commemoration of Thomas Jefferson and the role of Saint Louis in the westward expansion of the U.S. Due to security measures, all weapons are not allowed … but I recently found out that people sneak stuff in all the time, haha. Whoops. Website: stlouisarch(dot)com(slash)experience/the-gateway-arch**

**Also at the **_**Arch**_** are two theatres: the Odyssey Theatre and the Tucker Theatre. The movie referred to in this chapter is the one shown at Odyssey Theatre—"Lewis and Clark: Great Journey West." By the way, ****I do not own the movie or the theatre showing it.**

**The **_**Old Courthouse **_**(which was mentioned only in passing) is a historic site close to the **_**Arch **_**where several significant events took place (in 1872, Virginia Minor sued for a woman's right to vote in this courthouse). It is now filled with exhibits on these events. Website: stlouisarch(dot)com(slash)experience/old-courthouse**

**In case you're wondering, Tony and Ziva **_**do **_**go to places I don't mention in the fic :D just sayin'!**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you _so much _for all the alerts, favourites, and reviews to this fic! You guys make me feel so honoured. Chocolate roses for all of you!**

**-**_**Soph**_


	9. Day Nine

**Day Nine**

"Ziva, what are you doing?"

She turns back to look at him while pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. "I'm going for a run."

His head flops back onto his pillow. "While you're on _vacation? _You gotta be kidding me."

"I run whenever I can, vacation or not." She goes over to his side of the bed and sits down, resisting the urge to simply run her hands all over his chest. She thinks he looks like a rather cute puppy with sleep-dazed eyes at the moment. "You want to come? We have a lot of time to spare before the mine actually opens."

"I wanna sleep."

She shrugs. "Suit yourself. But you're always complaining that you are out of shape."

"Actually, that's _your _complaint against me." He rolls over onto his side and meets her eyes. "My complaint is that I'm getting older, but I'm not gonna be able to run the years away, anyway."

She chuckles. "It could stop you from getting older so quickly."

"Hrrrmph. I guess. But it's so much work."

"So you would rather get old?"

"Old_er. _And I'm up." He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "Just no fun knowing … you know, I thought playing pro ball was my thing, and then … guess I haven't really found one thing I'm really good at, yet."

She watches as his eyes glaze over with sadness and feels a stab of sympathy through her heart. "I think you are a really good friend."

He lifts a shoulder and drops it. "Not with the way I treat you and McGee sometimes."

"I agree." He sighs again. "Sometimes you're an excellent friend."

He gives a short, harsh bark of laughter. "You flatter me, Ziva."

"It's not like you will do it yourself." She squeezes his hand. "Come on. Get ready. I will wait for you."

He rubs his thumb against her skin. "Thanks."

xoxo

"Well, that's a disappointment," she grumbles as they step into the RV after returning from the mine at the Crater of Diamonds State Park. She peels off her boots and knocks off the dirt before placing it by the door.

"Ah, you knew the chances of finding diamonds were small," he answers, doing the same with his boots.

"I know, but I'm having bad enough luck with diamonds as it is." He raises his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"I thought Ray was a taboo topic."

"Ray is. Diamonds aren't."

She heads into the bedroom to fish out a change of clothes and comes out to find Tony casually leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at her. "Does that mean you're looking to get engaged soon?" he asks.

"No. Yes. _No_." She clucks her tongue impatiently and steps into the bathroom. "I don't know, Tony. Do not ask such questions."

"It's not a hard question," he calls in after her.

She sticks her head out of the bathroom. "It is when the man who supposedly wants to marry you also lies to you about having killed someone … _this will never be simple for me, Tony, _do you understand? I will never be able to just say 'Yes' without wondering whether he will start _lying_ to me or _cheating_ _on me_ or … or…"

She slams the bathroom door shut just so he won't see the hot tears that are starting to gather in her eyes.

xoxo

He is gone, presumably to shower in the camp site bathroom, when she steps out of her own long shower. She breathes out a sigh of relief, knowing she won't have to apologize for losing her temper with him just yet.

She walks into the bedroom to pick up her hairbrush and stops short at the sight of a tiny paper packet on her pillow. Picking it up and opening it, her heart flies into her throat.

Out onto her palm tumbles to a pair of earrings, silver and set with a yellow heart-shaped stone each.

_Topaz. _Her birth stone.

She stares at them for a long moment before sinking down onto the bed. Somewhat numbly, she prods at them with her finger, wondering if that means he's forgiven her for yelling at him; or if they're for someone else and not her, and he's just accidentally left them on her pillow.

She decides to return them to the packet for now, until she can ask him about it. Picking the packet up, though, she notices a folded-up piece of paper in it that she hadn't paid attention to the first time. Tweezing the paper out with her fingers, she unfolds it and reads:

_Zi_

_So I guess you probably wouldn't appreciate diamonds from me right now. _

_But I thought you might like these; I got them from the gift shop. No conditions, no strings attached, I promise. I'm just hoping they'll do until you get your diamond ring from some guy who loves you with all his heart. You'll find that guy eventually. I just know._

_Tony_

She thinks she hears a choked sob escape her throat.

xoxo

It feels like another hour before she hears the RV door open and shut, even though she knows that in reality, it could not have been more than half that time.

She steps out to the doorway of the bedroom, and his eyes meet hers warily. "Ziva, I'm sorry," he says quietly. "The more I think about it, the more inappropriate I know they are, but I didn't mean to make you cry in the first place, and—"

He stops talking when she wraps her arms around him and lays her cheek against his warm body. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you."

"It was my own fault."

"No … you did not know it would upset me." She laughs humourlessly as a thought comes to her mind. "Imagine if Gibbs saw us like this."

He laughs in kind. "The hugging or the apologizing?"

"Probably both."

"Gibbs is wrong sometimes," he answers, and she feels his arms come around her waist and his fingers lace together against her back. "Please forgive me?"

She presses a gentle kiss to his collarbone. "I already have."

xoxo

"This is interesting," she says as she leans forward and studies the scene before her. It is a parlour from the early 1900s, set up as an exhibit within the Three Valley Museum in Oklahoma.

"Planning to redecorate?" he teases.

"No. It would be very inconvenient, seeing as they probably did not incorporate any places to hide guns into the design."

He makes a noise of disbelief. "You creep me out sometimes."

She glances at him. "I'm kidding. Sort of."

"Am I going to have to search the RV for guns now?"

"It is not as if you do not know that the gun is either on me or under my pillow."

"Right." He turns away from her, muttering, "I don't know what I get myself into sometimes."

"Does it bother you that I put the gun under the pillow?"

"Well, it's not comforting to know you could just turn around and blow my head off if you wanted to."

"I would not do that."

"Still."

She sighs. "Fine. I will put the gun in the overhead compartment before bed. Okay?"

"Okay." He grins and cheers up. "You know what else I just realized? You'd look awesome in a flapper dress."

"That's not going to happen."

"It was totally worth a shot."

xoxo

"Ah … ah, I'll take that." He snatches his laundry hamper out from under her left hand, leaving her to stare at him. "You go do yours. I'll do mine after I clean the RV."

"Tony, it is more time-efficient if I do both our laundry. Besides, I don't put our clothes in the same washer."

"Yeah, but it's really … weird."

"How is it weird? They are just clothes."

"Well, there are under … thingys … involved."

"I have seen your dirty boxers before." He reddens significantly, and she has to hold back hysterical giggling. She beckons with her fingers. "Come on."

He holds out his hamper in defeat. "It's too late to save my dignity, isn't it?"

"Yes," she agrees, and retrieves the hamper from him. "I will be back in an hour."

xoxo

"I'm back," she announces as she steps through the door, putting both hampers on the couch. He looks up from cleaning the kitchen sink and freezes.

"Your hair was down when you left, right?"

"Yes. The laundry room was hot so I tied it up. Why?"

"I just noticed you're wearing the earrings."

"I have been wearing them since you gave them to me."

A huge grin grows on his face. "They look good on you."

"Thank you."

She watches as he goes back to scrubbing the sink, his grin not fading, and she marvels at how thrilled he looks just because of such a simple action of hers. She lifts a hand and touches one of the earrings.

Suddenly, she finds that the yellow, heart-shaped ones are her favourite pair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Crater of Diamonds State Park **_**is a diamond-producing site in Arkansas that is open to the public and where the public is encouraged to dig through a 37.5-acre (151, 757-square-meter) ploughed field for diamonds. Visitors are allowed to keep everything they find. Other rocks and minerals found there include amethyst, garnet, and quartz. Website: www(dot)craterofdiamondsstatepark(dot)com**

**Yellow Topaz is the modern birthstone for those born in November.**

**The **_**Three Valley Museum **_**is located in Durant, Oklahoma, which is the heart of the Red, Blue, and Washita River valleys. It contains exhibits and early-day scenes from 1873 to the present. One of the exhibits is a flapper dress (a knee-length dress from the 1920s) … hence Tony's randomness. Hehe. Website: www(dot)durantmainstreet(dot)org(slash)sights/view/3**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	10. Days Ten & Eleven

**Day Ten**

She sees him wander up to the edge of the mesa at the Alibates Flint Quarries and look out at the grass-covered landscape beyond, so she goes up to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't look around; simply gazes at the scenery and says softly, "Okay, you win."

She has to hide her grin and the fact that she's been waiting all day for him to say that. Instead, she calmly asks, "What am I winning?"

"This place is gorgeous."

She can't help the chuckle that escapes her lips this time. "So you admit that I chose the right destination to visit?"

"Yeah, you chose right. I'm only saying this once, so I hope you heard it the first time." He slips an arm around her waist, and her heart stumbles over itself. She feels her skin tingling furiously where his hand lies; even though he must've touched her thousands of times by now, and in far more personal places, this touch feels different. Tender. Natural. Possessive, even.

_Almost, _she thinks, _like one would hold a girlfriend._

"If you had a house in the countryside, would the countryside look like this?" he asks conversationally, and she blinks and rests her head against his shoulder.

"Probably not. It appears quite uninhabitable."

"I don't think so. I mean, there are probably snakes all over the place, but light a fire in the yard and you'll be fine."

She laughs. "I mean that it is in the middle of nowhere, Tony. I do not think there would be water and electricity for the house."

"That's the point of the countryside."

"I thought you _hate _the countryside."

"I do, but it looks kinda nice from over here. If I were to build a house in the countryside, this is where I would build it."

"Hmm. I can't imagine you living here. You would move out within a week."

He gives her an injured look, which makes her laugh again. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Come on, Tony. You are a city boy, and you and I both know it."

"Well. Guess I'd need to be somewhere near a DVD rental store."

She shakes her head. "Do you only ever think about movies?"

"I was thinking about the countryside, but you threw cold water on my dreams, as usual."

"I … threw … cold water. Is that a saying?"

He clucks in mock disapproval. "Yeah. I meant you kinda dissed my plans and discouraged me from fulfilling them."

"I did not!" she protests. "I was saving you from a life of misery in the countryside."

He chuckles. "Don't pretend to justify your actions, my lil' wet blanket."

xoxo

They drive past the Cadillac Ranch on their way from Texas into New Mexico, and for a long moment she feels as if she's with a young boy when she watches Tony eagerly pull the RV onto the shoulder of the road and run up to the Cadillacs to gape in awe at them.

He tells her about every movie the Ranch has ever appeared in or been mentioned in; she listens because she loves how excited he gets and how carefree he seems when he gets excited. Then he starts to lament their lack of spray paint for the cars, and she has to drag him away before he gets it into his head to drive to the nearest hardware store for aerosol tins.

It is past seven when they finally reach the RV park, so they have quick showers and a quick dinner, and she finds herself mildly surprised when they end up sitting on the bed and sharing secrets again.

She tells him the first not-so-threatening thing she can think of: that she made her first kill—illegally—at the age of sixteen. She tells him whom the orders had been given by and what the method of killing was, but she does not tell him that the mark had been her first boyfriend.

The look he gives her, though, suggests that he knows this was more personal than even a first kill would generally be.

Thankfully, he doesn't pursue, and only offers back what she feels must be even more private than what she had just shared—that he was bullied in boarding school. She feels shivers run down her spine as he tells her tale after tale of being shoved into lockers and strung up on flagpoles and even, on one occasion, framed for theft; tears gather in her eyes when he confesses that through it all, his father had been either clueless or indifferent (he chose to believe "clueless") because the issue had never been addressed in the rare few times that both were at home together.

She finds it silly that he wraps his arms around her after that and apologizes for troubling her with his past because if it had been up to her, she would have gone out of her way to make sure no one ever bullied him again.

Later, as she lets him spoon her while he sleeps, she lies awake wondering how many Secrets Nights they will need to have and how many times she will need to cry for him before she finds the courage in herself to tell him that she's still very much deeply in love with him.

xoxo

**Day Eleven**

Something must have changed before she could fully grasp it, because she wakes up in the morning with a burning desire to touch him or kiss him or do _anything, _really,which would tell him about her feelings for him.

She doesn't act on those desires, of course. With the wisdom of a grown woman who has seen too much since the first time she fell in love with him, she understands that sudden declarations will not get them any closer to where she hopes they can eventually be. So she settles for small gestures and small smiles, and fervently prays that one day, she will get to be the one to tell him she loves him.

They visit the Poeh Museum together and are wowed by the works of art on display; as they wander through the exhibition rooms, learning about the histories and cultures of the Tewa-speaking Pueblos in New Mexico, she comes to the realization that she is finally happy. Not just content, but _happy_; happier than she has been, perhaps, for a long time.

That realization is what pushes her to hold his hand when she sees him get a little twitchy as they later visit the tiny Roman Catholic church—El Santuario de Chimayo. He looks down at her with something resembling surprised gratitude then, and she smiles reassuringly back up at him. When his hand tightens around hers, she comes to her second realization of the day: that she is just as much his comfort item as he is hers, even if he could never admit to it.

What he does admit to that night startles her. With little more than a morose expression and a tongue that occasionally knotted itself, he tells her about the first woman he has ever loved enough to want to marry. Details that she both craves to hear and would rather not know flow forth from his lips, and even though she wants to tell him that she's already learnt some of those same things from Wendy, she does not stop him. She sees that he needs it as much as he does the solace she offers him after he is done.

When he buries his face into her hair and whispers brokenly that the nightmares which have haunted him for years started after Wendy left, though, she finds herself feeling utterly helpless.

She is relieved that he does not ask her to share a secret that night, because she suddenly can't think of anything which would not be a painful memory to either or both of them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Alibates Flint Quarries **_**is a national monument in Amarillo, Texas, where Alibates flint (a multi-coloured stone that can be sharpened) was once obtained by prehistoric American Indians to be traded or made into weapons. Website: www(dot)nps(dot)gov/alfl/index(dot)htm**

**The **_**Cadillac Ranch **_**is a line of ten Cadillacs in a wheat field west of Amarillo. They are buried nose-first into the ground, and the public is encouraged to visit, photograph, and spray-paint the cars. The Ranch celebrates the evolution of early Cadillacs. Website: www(dot)libertysoftware(dot)be(slash)cml/cadillacranch/crmain(dot)htm**

**The **_**Poeh Museum **_**was established (along with **_**Poeh Arts **_**and the **_**Poeh Centre**_**) by the Pueblo of Pojoaque's Tribal Council for the preservation of both traditional and contemporary art and culture of all Pueblo People. Pueblos are American Indian communities; they are named so because Spanish explorers found these communities when they first arrived in the area (**_**Pueblo **_**is Spanish for "town" or "village"). The **_**Poeh Museum **_**focuses on the six Tewa-speaking Pueblos (Nambe, Pojoaque, San Ildefonso, San Juan, Santa Clara, and Tesuque) in Northern New Mexico. Website: www(dot)poehmuseum(dot)com**

_**El Santuario de Chimayo **_**is a compound managed by the Sons of the Holy Family containing two buildings—El Santuario de Chimayo****shrine, and the Shrine of Santa Niño de Atocha. It is a place of prayer and to which pilgrimages are made, but also a place of culture in which can be found Hispanic works of art as well as performing Matachines (religious dancers) and La Danza Azteca (the Aztec Dance) groups. Website: www(dot)elsantuariodechimayo(dot)us/indexAlt(dot)html**

**Thanks for reading; hope you enjoyed!**

**-_Soph_**


	11. Day Twelve

**Cripes! Sorry for the late-ish update; I was out a few hours ago.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twelve<strong>

"This is it," he says excitedly, grabbing her hand and dragging her over to stand in the middle of the granite slab. "There. You're standing in four states. Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. Be _proud, _Ziva. You're standing in almost one-twelfth of all the states in the U.S."

She laughs. "And that's it? You want me to stand here?"

"Yeah, until I take a picture for Abby." He busies himself with pulling the camera out of its bag.

"Why?" she asks, mystified.

"When you do something as quirky as standing in four states, you gotta let Abby know."

"I am sure this is far from the quirkiest thing Abby has seen," she replies, and steps out of the circle.

"Hey!" he protests, nudging her back inside. "Well, we've to prove to Abby that we didn't just spend a month holed up in one of our apartments or something."

"She would not think that."

"Okay, she wouldn't, but she also hugged me into promising I would take nice pictures. This will be a nice picture." He lifts the camera and steps back, and she fakes a smile. The shutter clicks.

"Why not take a picture of yourself, then?" she continues.

"'Cause you're the fair maiden." He snaps another picture, and then turns to squint through the sun at the distant mountains. "You think I should take a picture of the whole thing?"

She shrugs even though he isn't looking at her. "If you want. Can I come out now? I am sure there are other people who want to stand on the marker."

"Yeah, sure."

xoxo

"Zi?" he asks absent-mindedly as they travel down Utah Highway 162 towards the historical city of Bluff.

"Hmm?"

"Do I hold you back?"

Her jaw drops open. "Hold … me back…. How?"

"I mean, the Four Corners Monument…. That's pretty cool in my world, but … just figured you'd like white-water rafting or some extreme climb-on-a-rock-face-without-a-safety-harness thing if I weren't here."

"I don't see what those things have to do with your presence."

"Well, I _am _the less adventurous one…"

She frowns. "Tony, I am fine with the places we go to. I liked the Four Corners Monument."

"Okay," he answers, and she's once again left with the feeling that the topic has been closed without properly being opened.

xoxo

"It's time," he announces solemnly as he peers out of one of the windows into the night, and she looks up from her book. "Let's go."

She takes the hand he offers and follows him out of the RV, and they wander around for a few minutes searching for a grassy patch to sit on.

"Should have brought a blanket," she comments as he pulls her down with him.

"Why, you cold?"

"No, but we're about to lie on wet grass just to gaze at stars."

"That's kinda what back-to-nature is all about." He lies down and pats his shoulder, and she hesitates before curling against him and nestling her head into his shoulder.

"Have you suddenly become a nature buff?" she asks quietly, turning her eyes towards the star-lit sky.

He lets out a vague hum. "Maybe it's the company."

"Hmm." She looks at the stars for a while.

"My mum used to tell me stories about the stars."

"What kinds of stories?"

"Any kind. I think she invented them on the spot. I'd point out a star and she'd just spin a story … she was a good storyteller. Maybe that's what captivated my dad … he was always happier with her in the room."

"Oh."

"Then asthma got her … funny. She was always so good at laughing. I thought she was never gonna run out of breath."

She hears the catch in his voice and feels her heart breaking. She gives in to her urge after all, laying a comforting hand his chest, and the expression of shock that comes over his face almost makes her pull away. The way he threads the fingers of his free hand in between hers stops her, though.

"Ziva, I don't wanna live with regrets," he whispers, and she feels as if her words to him from months ago are being thrown back in her face.

She knows that isn't his intention, though, so she swallows an angry retort and gently asks, "What are you regretting?"

His brow creases in anxiety for a second before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you something. But … this is hard, and I … I'm just hoping you won't beat me up if they're not the words you want to hear."

"Okay," she promises in confusion.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. "There is a possibility," he finally presses out, "that I have very strong romantic feelings for you."

She doesn't know who tenses first, but in the next moment she is gaping at him, her heart racing and her head spinning, while he becomes as still as a statue beneath her. He steadfastly avoids her gaze, and it is many seconds before she can feel her limbs enough to raise herself up on one elbow and look down at him.

His eyes meet hers then, the apprehension in them making her want to cry. She clears her throat. "Did you … did you mean what you just said?"

He does his own throat-clearing. "Yeah. But, I mean, I just…" He shrugs. "You don't have to … y'know, do anything."

She pauses. "When you said 'very strong' … how strong did you mean?"

He breathes out and rubs his face with both of his hands. "Not that I don't want to, but I … _can't_ tell you everything at once, Ziva."

For some reason, his distress is the thing which moves her enough to calm her. A few gulping breaths later, she shakily lies herself back down onto his shoulder, her hand resettled on his chest.

And suddenly she finds it _so hard_ to tell him she feels the same way about him.

She feels him relax slowly, inch by inch, minute by minute, and with unexpected clarity she understands that he thinks she does not reciprocate, and she knows that he may never bring up the topic again once the night has passed.

That panics her enough to send her up on her elbow again. The look he gives her this time is one of bewilderment, and she has to swallow the lump in her throat before saying, "Tony, I … you know I … feel the same way … yes?"

There is a very pregnant pause before he answers. "I'd … hoped…?"

She averts her gaze and swallows again, forcing herself to continue. "I asked you 'how strong,' because … we've been here before. You know, this whole push and pull … those few moments here and there … I can't do it anymore. I n-need something different with you. But that would depend on you…"

Her eyes track his fingers as he tucks her hair behind her ear, and he sends tingles through her when he brushes her cheekbone. "I need something different, too," he tells her softly, and it is then that she notices his nervousness is no longer as great.

"How different?" she still pushes. "I … there was a time when I … fell very hard for you, and I got hurt very badly. And I know it's a bit rich of me to say that, but Tony, I can't go into this knowing you will walk away again. You understand?"

His eyes sadden. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Ziva."

"The past is the past." She blinks back her tears. "I just need to know if the future will be the same."

"I won't walk away again. I promise."

She bites her lip and nods. "Okay."

He pulls her back down upon him, his fingers running up and down her arm gently until she feels goose pimples. "So where are we now?" he asks eventually.

"On the same page," she replies quietly, and when he pulls her face up to capture her mouth with his, she realizes with a jolt that this is it: they have crossed the work-partners-only line, and it feels _incredible._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Four Corners Monument, **_**maintained by the Navajo Nation, is the only point in the U.S. at which four states (in a clockwise direction, Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona) intersect. It has a marker done in brass and granite, and Navajo vendors sell various crafts and foods nearby. Website: www(dot)navajonationparks(dot)org/htm/fourcorners(dot)htm**

**The city of **_**Bluff **_**(which was mentioned just in passing) is a historical town in south-eastern Utah named after the 300-foot sandstone bluffs which serve as backdrop to the town. There are forty-two buildings constructed between 1880 and the mid-1940s. Website: www(dot)bluffutah(dot)org/tour/index(dot)html**

**Tony and Ziva were star-gazing (sort of) in the **_**Natural Bridges National Monument, **_**which has been named the world's first International Dark Sky Park . Its sky was considered to be the darkest and starriest ever seen by the U.S. National Park Service at the time that it was being reviewed. Website: www(dot)nps(dot)gov/nabr/index(dot)htm**

**And there you go! I hope you liked it :S**

**-_Soph_**


	12. Day Thirteen

**Day Thirteen**

It feels perfectly normal to wake up in his arms.

She can count with one hand the number of times they'd woken up to find either one in the other's personal space, but it has never felt as right as it does in this moment. She thinks it should feel more awkward, really, because she had woken up yesterday morning as merely his friend and then gone to bed as … more than that, and yet she can't bring herself to roll out of his embrace like she had the few times before.

She stretches and feels his hand tighten on her waist just the tiniest bit, as if he is afraid she would leave. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, so she retracts her limbs and presses soft kisses to his skin until his grip loosens again.

She looks up to find his eyes on her, awake, alert, and for whatever reason, slightly surprised.

"What?" she asks, and that makes his lips pull into a wide smile.

"Nothing." He kisses her, his hand running up her back and tangling with her hair.

"Then why were you staring at me?" she asks, her breath leaving her as his fingers gently brush her nape.

"I'm happy."

She pauses despite the sparkle in his eyes that speaks to the truth of his statement. "That does not even fit what I asked."

He chuckles. "It makes sense to me."

"Hmm." She feels herself smiling. "Okay."

He grins and leans in to kiss her again.

xoxo

He is ridiculously excited to visit Butch Cassidy's boyhood home, and she laughs as she watches him race around the small cabin, his features lit with enthusiasm. She's starting to wonder if going away from work has a liberating effect on him—_never, _in the six years that she's known him, has she seen him look that carefree.

xoxo

They visit the Great Basin National Park next, and it's her turn to be fascinated by the caves in it; with its high ceilings and large structures of stalactites and stalagmites, it feels as if she's stepped into a different world. She holds his hand and gasps in wonderment as the tour guide points out the parachute shield of the Lehman Caves.

For a moment, she is a different person, too.

xoxo

It had been decided while they were doing their planning for the week that they would travel the stretch of Route 50 which ran horizontally across Nevada; they had found it the rather more adventurous way to travel, and although it would take them nowhere near Las Vegas, they had made up their minds to leave Sin City for another time.

So they end up in a small town called McGill and spend half an hour walking around the McGill Drugstore Museum. It is surprisingly enjoyable.

xoxo

Another half an hour has them settled nicely in an RV park, and she finds that it's Laundry Day again. She gathers both their hampers and steps out of the bedroom; he calls to her.

"Can I go with you?" he asks, coming up to her.

She raises her eyebrows. "Is this about your boxers again?"

He ponders that. "No. I've just never seen the laundry rooms in RV parks. Kinda fascinated to know what they're like."

"They look like the launderettes at home," she tells him, feeling rather perplexed. "But smaller. There is no special machine or giant pink dinosaur sitting in the middle of the room, if that's what you wanted to know."

"Oh…" He pauses, and then asks again, "Well, can I go with you anyway?"

Her heart sinks as a suspicion dawns on her. "You're not getting clingy, are you?" she questions softly, and she can't help the irritation that boils up in her gut.

"What? No!"

"Okay. I will be back in an hour, then."

As she hurriedly walks off, the revelation that shakes her more than anything is that she is so quick to jump to conclusions about him.

xoxo

"A bit," he mutters as she steps back into the RV, and she places the hampers on the couch before turning to look at him. He glances up from the range, where he's poking rather pointlessly at a shallow pot of canned beans. His lips are a long, pressed-together line. "I can't lie to you."

He doesn't move a muscle as she approaches him and lays a hand on his back; he just keeps stirring and stirring, his eyes fixed firmly on the pot. She raises herself up on tiptoe and presses a kiss to his smooth cheek. "Okay."

He sighs and stirs even more furiously. "I can't think of single thing to say right now that won't make me sound like a needy teenage boy," he whispers, so softly she wouldn't have heard him if she hadn't been right next to him.

She turns off the gas, and his hand freezes mid-stir. "Then just pick the one you want to say the most."

He gives a bark of laughter and turns the gas back on. "Not gonna happen."

"So that's it? This is the point where we start keeping things from each other?"

She sees the flicker in his eyes only because she's staring straight at him. "I don't want that to be us," he admits, sounding as if he's forced himself to say as much. He finally turns off the gas, but stands stiffly, as if he's not quite sure what next to do.

"Tell me," she prompts him gently, and he shudders almost imperceptibly when she rubs his back.

Avoiding her gaze, he swallows several times before answering her. "I'm not a clingy person. I don't get possessive. Y'know, 'cause people wanna leave … that's their choice. And I wasn't thinking you were gonna take off with our hampers. I just wanted to hang out more with you, Ziva. That's it; pure and simple. Maybe that's 'clingy' in your book…" He shrugs defeatedly. "I don't know how to be 'un-clingy.' Not when it's you."

She breathes out slowly. "You realize we are spending one month together, alone?"

"I know," he replies flatly. "But before this we weren't … it's kinda hard to admit when we're just friends that I need you with me, Ziva."

She stares at him. She thinks that it may be as hard for her to hear the words as it is for him to admit them, because the enormity of the change in their relationship is just starting to dawn on her. She's never really been _needed_ before: all of her previous romantic partners had been able to put down the relationship and later pick up where they left off, and while she hadn't found that enjoyable to any great degree, she had certainly gotten used to it.

She is so used to it that hearing his words now feels almost like a chokehold; an iron-barred cage bearing a gigantic warning sign about how she won't even be able to do the simplest of things without his being there. She feels terror flooding her limbs at the prospect of being dogged by his shadow for the rest of her life—until, moving as little as he can, he steps away from her.

She can breathe again. But all she feels is coldness. And of course her mind should choose this moment to go back to that time summers ago, when all she wanted was him. His presence, his smile, his touch; and the memories of watching him fall in love with another woman are still so strong and vivid that they strike a chill in her bones.

His eyes, lifeless, meet hers. In that split second, she comes to accept that maybe, _maybe _he just needs her right now like she had needed him back then.

In that split second, she also realizes that she would rather have him around too much than not at all.

And so, decision made, she once more secures her arms around him. "Okay," she whispers into his ear, and he trembles almost imperceptibly again when he returns her embrace.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

_**Butch Cassidy's Boyhood Home, **_**just south of Circleville, Utah, is the childhood home of Butch Cassidy, one of the American Old West's most famous outlaws. The pictures I've seen show this **_**tiiiny **_**cabin, haha. But I figured that since Butch Cassidy has had several movies made after him, Tony would have wanted to visit the cabin. Website: www(dot)piute(dot)org/Attractions/Butch_Cassidys_Boyhood_Home(dot)htm**

**The **_**Great Basin National Park **_**is home to the **_**Lehman Caves, **_**which is a beautiful limestone cave full of stalactites, stalagmites, and over three hundred rare shield formations (the parachute shield being one of them). Cave shields, which the **_**Lehman Caves **_**are famous for, are thought to form as a result of water that is forced out of cracks in the cave wall. The calcite in this water crystallizes on either side of the crack, forming two plates with a thin, water-filled crack in between. This formation is known as a shield. Website: www(dot)nps(dot)gov/grba/index(dot)htm**

**The **_**McGill Drugstore Museum**_**, open for private tours only by appointment, is a drugstore that operated from the late 1900s to the late 1970s. In 1995, the drugstore, which still has products from the 1950s, was given to the White Pine Public Museum for historical preservation and of it and its inventory. Website: www(dot)mcgilldrugstoremuseum(dot)org**

**I think I should clarify that they have not yet slept together, haha. And yes, Ziva does have her reasons, but I don't know yet if Tony will ask her them :( I've currently written up to Chapter 20, in case anyone's wondering.**

**Also: From now on, Tony will get a lot more ... emotional. Nothing to do with their being together; Ziva's just pushing him to be more honest, and with truth comes the repressed pain that accompanies it. So, yea ... we will see a very different side of Tony after this.**

**Please review, and thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	13. Days Fourteen & Fifteen

**This is a calmer chapter :D and btw, I'm not a professional photographer. I'm not even an amateur one. So whatever Ziva says about photography in this chapter, please consult the experts first, lol. I was just, as we say here in Malaysia, "crapping"—spewing out a random combination of words in the hopes that it's just about complicated enough to look like it makes sense.**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fourteen<strong>

"Seriously, that was one awesome press room," he enthuses as they walk back towards the RV from a visit to the Eureka Sentinel Museum. "Not that I've seen a modern-day press room before, but I think this sorta thing looks better in antiquity. I mean, did you _see _that printing press?"

"Yes, Tony," she answers, laughing. "I saw there. I saw the printing press."

"You liked all the homey stuff on the second floor better," he accuses, and she makes a noise of protest.

"Is that wrong? That Hoosier cabinet for the spice jars was _very _fascinating."

He chuckles. "I find it hard to picture you labelling spices and arranging them in the cabinet."

"I would buy pre-labelled spices," she explains, and he chuckles even louder.

"You take all the domestic out of 'domestic.'"

"I would still cook," she replies indignantly.

"Yeah, but that's different. _I _cook."

"Hah! What do you cook?"

"Haven't I been cooking some of the nights we've been on this trip?"

"Tony, heating up canned food does not count as cooking."

"There's the one night I made steak."

She smiles. "There is."

"You just wait, Ziva. One day I'm going to sweep you off your feet with an awesome cooked dinner."

She laughs outright at that. "How very romantic."

"I'll put flowers on the table and all." He grins charmingly before opening the RV door with a slight bow. "After you, m'lady."

"Cut the crap, Tony," she warns him as she climbs into the vehicle, and she can literally hear his amusement following her in.

xoxo

She throws her hands up as he clicks the camera shutter for the third time before frowning at the camera, as if unsatisfied with the picture he has just taken. "Are you done yet?" she asks in exasperation before pushing off the side of the RV and going to stand next to him. "Why do you need so many shots?"

"No matter how I take them, they look like crime scene photos," he moans, pushing the camera to her. She studies the digital image of the abandoned shack before them.

"You could just not take them."

"Thought I might pick up a new hobby," he admits with a casual shrug. "People take photographs of nice buildings all the time."

She furrows her brows at the camera. "Maybe more asymmetry. More … colour. You should take a picture of the field surrounding it."

"What do you mean?"

"Artistic photography is different from taking crime scene photos, Tony. The focus is not on making every detail as clear as possible. It is on … the bigger picture, maybe." She hands the camera back to him. "Some things are beautiful only because you take into account that which it is part of."

"Huh." He stares hard at the camera. "That makes sense, I guess."

She smiles and presses a quick kiss to his jaw. "Take your pictures."

xoxo

**Day Fifteen**

"Okay, truth," he begins abruptly midway through their visit to the Churchill County Museum, and she looks away distractedly from the exhibit she's been studying. "Who do you think you would've been in a past life?"

She blinks. She'd been expecting something much more serious, given how he'd started his question. "I don't know. A soldier?"

"You're a soldier _now. _I mean, you _were _a soldier, in this life. Not really a soldier. More like a kick-ass officer with really good assassination skills. Although you _were _a soldier once, even in this life. You get my point. Don't confuse me. You really think you were a soldier in your past life?"

"_I don't know. _It's my past life, Tony. If I had one, I'm not supposed to be able to remember it."

He tilts his head with interest.

"What?" she growls.

"I'm trying to imagine you as a soldier in one of those big, fancy, Victorian-era dresses."

"_Don't._ I would not have been wearing a dress, anyway. I would have put on trousers and shocked the entire neighbourhood."

He laughs. "Yeah, sounds like something you would do."

"Who would you have been, anyway? _Mafioso?_"

"Nope. Cowboy from an old Western," he replies promptly. "You know, with the spurs on the boots and all. I'd have a horse named Alf."

"That sounds like a name a straw-chewing farmer would give his prized bull."

"Hmm."

"And why are we having this weird conversation?"

"Just wondering what it'd be like. In a different life, with different circumstances. You think I'd have known you then?"

"No." She links her hand with his and, more to shut him up than anything else, tells him, "But you know me now."

xoxo

"I know who you were," he announces excitedly over dinner, and she looks up from her food.

"Who I was?"

"Yeah, in your past life. I know who you were."

"Well, I just can't wait to hear this," she says drily.

"Mulan!"

She thinks she feels her mouth drop open, and she gapes at him blankly. "The … Disney Princess?"

He rolls his eyes. "You read _books _for movie quotes, and yet you know who the Disney Princesses are?"

"I am sure everyone knows who the Disney Princesses are."

"I don't." He eyes her suspiciously. "Are you a secret Disney movie fan? Did _Lilo and Stitch_ move you to tears? Did you cheer when … when … I can't do this. Argh."

She smirks into her peas. "What's the matter, Tony, afraid to admit that you watched the _Little Mermaid _more than once?"

"I did not!" He makes a noise halfway between a cough and a sneeze, his eyes wide with horror. "And this is not about me. I'm saying you were Mulan, the girl who came from the Chinese legends."

"I thought she was a Disney Princess."

"Yeah, but they got her from some Chinese ballad … thingy."

"Hmm. How do you know this?"

"I may have … done some Googling…"

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "You Googled Mulan?" He shrugs awkwardly, and she feels overpowered by a fit of giggles. "Nice to know of your interest in Disney Princesses."

"_One _Disney Princess, and it was only because she reminds me of you."

That makes her sober up. "Okay."

"'Okay'?"

"Well, I doubt Mulan was real, but if it makes you happy to think of me as her…"

He grins happily. "You're my Mulan." Her eyebrows hit her hairline again, and a hint of red appears on his cheeks before he smiles sheepishly and returns to his dinner.

She finds the entire conversation strangely endearing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Tony and Ziva are now travelling along the stretch of **_**Route 50 **_**running across Nevada ****which, I forgot to mention in the last chapter, is also called the **_**Pony Express Territory. **_**Somewhere around the late 1980s, Life Magazine purportedly published an article naming this trail as the Loneliest Road (with nowhere to go and nothing to see). In response to this article, Nevada tourism officials encouraged tourists to visit by naming this stretch of highway the "Loneliest Road in America" and then creating a survival kit for it; in this survival kit is a map which travellers can get stamped in various places in the towns of Ely, Eureka, Austin, Fallon, and Fernley (which all sit along Route 50). Once the boxes for all five towns have been stamped, the map can be mailed to the Nevada Commission on Tourism, and a Loneliest Road survival certificate as signed by the Governor, a Loneliest Road lapel pin, and a Loneliest Road bumper sticker will be sent back as proof that you survived the "uninteresting and empty" road. Website: ponyexpressnevada(dot)com(slash)index(dot)html**

**The **_**Eureka Sentinel Museum **_**is housed in a building which was used as a newspaper office and a residence from 1879 to 1960. Today, a press room from the 1800s and a mining history room reside on the bottom floor of the two-storey structure; on the top floor are exhibits depicting home and school life during the early days of Eureka, as well as a late 1800s barber shop and exhibits from the first and second world wars. Website: www(dot)co(dot)eureka(dot)nv(dot)us/tourism/museum01(dot)htm**

**A Hoosier cabinet was a cabinet popular in the early 20****th**** century for the organization and storage of spices, salt and sugar, flour, and even tea and coffee.**

**Tony was taking pictures in the town of Austin, which is a living ghost town (as of 2004, it had a human population of 340). It has several beautiful churches and hotels, as well as a three-storey tower known as Stokes Castle. Website: austinnevada(dot)com/index(dot)html**

**The **_**Churchill County Museum and Archives **_**in the town of Fallon houses exhibits such as hand-woven Native American baskets, post office boxes in use from 1904 to 1977, and antique carriages and fire engines. Website: www(dot)ccmuseum(dot)org/index(dot)php**

**Mulan is a legendary figure from ancient China who, according to the English Wikipedia, was first described in a poem called the **_**Ballad of Mulan **_**(I'm sure there are more reliable sources, but it'd all be in Chinese, and I'm lazy to read at the moment). In 1998, Disney created an animated musical film called **_**Mulan **_**with a protagonist of the same name. Mulan from the Disney film is often regarded as a Disney Princess even though she is royal neither by birth nor by marriage.**

**Hope you enjoyed; thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	14. Day Sixteen

**Short, emotion-focused chapter :P enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixteen<strong>

"Oh, my god. You are actually trying this." She resists the urge to turn away and cover her eyes in horror as he pauses happily before an exhibit, attempting to figure out how to get it to work.

"C'mon, it's fun! Come and learn Science with me." He grins at her.

She gives a mock shudder. "That is what paedophiles tell children before they are whisked off into unmarked vans and windowless warehouses."

"Ziva," he whines. "Stop comparing me to paedophiles and come here. Even if you don't like this exhibit, you'll like the others, I swear."

She reluctantly trudges over to him. "So, how does this work?"

xoxo

She has more fun at the ScienceWorks Hands-On Museum than she would care to admit, although the way his eyes twinkle suggests that he already knows.

Then again, his eyes have always been especially twinkly.

"How are things on the Kids front?" he asks casually as they hunt for a café to lunch in, and she tries hard not to hit him for ruining a perfectly good day.

"The same," she answers, her tongue feeling like lead.

She wonders if this is the too-soon moment where they start discussing children, and he decides that he doesn't want this sort of thing with her, after all. She knows he wants children of his own. But she is also familiar with his penchant for pushing her away, and her heart thuds with the fear that she is not whom he should wish to have children with.

"Yeah," he says in a non-committal manner. She doesn't really want to think about what that "Yeah" means. "Would be cool if—"

He cuts off abruptly, and she glances up at him. "If what?"

"Nothing."

She sighs and steps in front of him, pressing both hands against his chest to stop his forward motion. "You know I want children," she tells him as firmly as she can, even though the waver in her voice probably betrays her. "You've always known. _You've always known, Tony._"

"I know," he replies, his eyes confused and slightly shocked. His left hand comes up to cover her right, pressing it against his chest, exactly where his heartbeat is. Strong. Steady. Everything she ever wanted.

"Then you must know," she persists despite the tears she can taste on her tongue, "that I'm looking for permanence."

"I know." The line in between his eyebrows disappears as his eyes widen with something that she thinks may be enlightenment, and he draws her into his arms. "Ziva, I _know._ Look, I can't just drop to the floor and ask you to marry me right now. But I went into this … knowing that permanence and … children will eventually be in the question. I can't promise to be ready then. But that's what you're here for—to tell me that I can do this and won't screw up or break anything. Either way, I didn't go into this thinking that we're good only until you want something more … okay?"

She bites her bottom lip and nods, trying to sniffle back her tears as surreptitiously as possible. She feels her overreaction acutely; a pang runs through her at the knowledge that she might, just maybe, be verging on the edge of desperation.

It's not that she needs marriage and children right in this moment. It's simply that it hurts a lot—even more than the entire Ray incident does—to think that she might have to choose between Tony and a family.

Maybe despite her best efforts, she has already started picturing a future with him.

A feather-light kiss is pressed to her temple as he strokes her hair, and then he's whispering into her ear, "We could go back and kidnap one of those kids from the science museum, if you want."

She bursts into tearful laughter and buries her face into his shoulder. Sometimes she loves him so much, it almost hurts.

xoxo

"I lied to a chaplain," he says rather vaguely as she climbs into bed late that night, and she stares at him.

"… Okay."

"Told her my greatest fear was children."

"Oh." She pauses, smoothing down the covers around her. "If they are not, then what is?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not very sure yet. Not bugs. I don't run screaming when I see bugs. But just the general idea of … the future. Or the past. I'm not sure which it is."

"That does not leave you with a lot."

"Nope. Just the present. Think I'm kinda scared of that, too."

"Why?"

He shrugs and picks at the blanket. "You know, things in my life just have a tendency to go … wrong. Really wrong. Not tiny mistakes that you'd miss if you weren't looking properly, but huge dressed-in-tutus-to-attract-your-attentio—"

"Tony." She sighs.

"Sorry." He draws his knees up, looking oddly vulnerable. "Just wondering. What I said this afternoon … I meant it. But … y'know. I'm wondering the same about you."

"You're wondering if I want 'permanent,'" she asks haltingly, confused.

"Not permanence in general; just … y'know."

"Permanence with you?"

A tiny laugh escapes his lips, and his grin turns self-deprecating. "Well, y'know. I _am _damaged goods."

"Vance said that about me, too. When I went to … ask if I could have my job back." She suddenly finds it hard to look at him.

"He _what?_" he asks, his voice flat and carrying a hint of anger.

"He said I was damaged goods. That I needed a psych evaluation before he decided whether I could come back." She lifts her eyes. "He was right. I was very hurt when he said it, but he was only doing his job."

"Yeah, but…" he splutters, swinging out his hands in a display of agitation. She takes the opportunity to grab his fingers, wrapping both hands around them and watching him until he falls still.

"Do you think I am damaged goods?" she asks quietly and slowly, her eyes not leaving his face.

"No! No, Ziv—"

"I don't think you're damaged goods, either." He quietens. "You have had a bad past, but so have I. Who am I to judge? And more importantly, why would I want to? The _only_ thing that matters to me, Tony, is that you are here now."

"Will that be enough … years down the line?"

"Yes," she says firmly, even though she feels moved to tears at the thought that he might want to spend _years _with her. "Because however bad things get, Tony … I will remember that you never walked away from me."

"I don't wanna screw us up," he whispers hoarsely.

"Then trust that you won't."

He is silent, seemingly thinking things over. Finally, he nods, and she takes that as her cue to shift closer, holding his face in her hands and kissing him. His arm curls around her.

"Unbelievable," he hisses after a while, and she frowns.

"What is?"

"_Vance._"

She chuckles against his lips. "Let it go, Tony. His opinion is not the one which matters to me."

He makes a noise that may have been a grumble, and then settles for pulling her against him.

She kind of likes how protective he can be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**ScienceWorks Hands-On Museum **_**is a science museum in Ashland, Oregon, with interactive science exhibits, demonstrations, and performances. I doubt Tony and Ziva would be allowed to visit all the exhibits, but some are for all ages, including adults :D … What? Don't judge! See for yourself! Website: www(dot)scienceworksmuseum(dot)org**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	15. Day Seventeen

**Hi!**

**So Court, I'm updating now in the hopes that you'll see this when you wake up :D but if you don't, never mind! See you in a few weeks *hugs* (just a warning, though; this chapter has a cliffy-ish ending).**

**The rest of you, enjoy! Next update will be Tuesday afternoon (Monday night for those of you in the US).**

**-S_oph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seventeen<strong>

He gasps dramatically and grabs her arm, his eyes wide. "I have figured it out."

"What have you figured out?"

"_You have a secret love for collectibles._" He makes a sweeping gesture to indicate the entire gallery.

She rolls her eyes. "Is there any point in your life at which you act like a grown-up?"

"You don't deny it. You love collectibles, don't you?"

She ponders that. "Yes, but I don't 'collect.' I buy the occasional one."

"What's the difference?"

"The ones I don't buy."

"Oh." He scrunches up his nose. "I never got collecting."

"Who would have figured."

"Well, just the idea…"

"You should try it." She glances up at him before returning to the row of canvases. "It would make your apartment look more … homey."

"What's with you and the homey? My apartment is homey. Just devoid of collectibles."

"That's the point."

"Well, I do have my collection of DVDs."

She laughs. "You do not think some paintings will brighten your apartment up?"

"I guess. I'm just not a painting kinda person."

"I could help you pick one."

"If you want."

"Okay. You must promise to hang it up, though."

"I will hang it up and look at it every day."

She shakes her head at his joke. "I don't know why I put up with you."

xoxo

"There are quite a few apple orchards in this area, yes?" she remarks with interest.

"Well, Sunnyside's a major apple-producing area," he answers. "And keep your eyes on the road when you're driving."

She ignores his order, but slows down so that she can look at the orchards they pass by. "How do you know this?"

"It's kinda obvious, isn't it?" he drawls in amusement. "But, no. I read it in some magazine somewhere. The U.S. is a big producer of apples, Washington is a big producer of apples in the U.S., and Sunnyside is a big producer of apples in Washington."

She raises her eyebrows, but does not voice her surprise over the fact that he has gleaned that much from reading.

"You're not gonna stop and buy us apples 'for fibre,' are you?" he asks.

She gives him a disapproving look. "We still have some left. But you should have a more balanced diet."

"I survived this long on the diet I've always had," he protests.

"Yes, but I still think you should eat more fruit."

He grumbles and, with rather childlike petulance, says, "I ate every piece of fruit you gave me."

That makes her laugh and lean over to ruffle his hair affectionately.

xoxo

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him get fidgety as they approach the gates of the Diamond T Ranch. She chuckles and makes a right turn onto the driveway.

"Don't laugh," he grits out. "Farm animals. Me. Don't get along."

"You will be fine."

"You want to visit the _petting zoo,_" he groans, thudding his head against the cushion of his seat and screwing his eyes shut.

"You don't have to go with me."

An eye pops open and focuses on her. "Maybe I'll just stand outside and wait."

"Good idea."

xoxo

"Hi," she hears him say warily from outside the pen as she feeds the goat before her and strokes its short fur. "Nice kid. Ni—no, don't attack me. Ah. Ziva? Ziva, save me!"

She looks up to see another baby goat drawing his T-shirt happily into its mouth, chewing on the shirt as if it is hay. She bursts into a fit of silent laughter. "I think it likes you, Tony."

"Not funny. Ziva, I've got goat on my shirt. Help!"

"It will not harm you. Just … pet it."

His mouth falls open in alarm. "_Pet _it? It's … it's…"

Suppressing further laughter, she goes over to him and takes up his hand. He resists, protesting, "No, don't mak—" She plants his hand firmly on the goat's head, and he freezes for an entire second before slowly relaxing. "Oh."

"Not so bad?"

"Well…" He strokes the goat's head twice, experimentally. "Kinda nice."

"Yes."

"It didn't attack me." He smiles.

"No." She returns his smile before lightly tapping the goat's nose and tugging the shirt out of its mouth. "Do you want to come into the pen?"

"Uh." He hesitates. "Yeah, I guess so."

She grins teasingly. "I knew you would not be able to resist the kids."

xoxo

They run into another couple outside their RV as they return for dinner, and are invited to join the merry campfire that the couple have going. She thinks of refusing because it feels awkwardly like a double date to her, but he grabs her hand and inclines his head at the couple, and she lets him lead her over for introductions.

Dinner is fun at the beginning; over marshmallows and S'mores, they talk about the places they've been and the things they've seen. She thinks he might be mentioning her too much, though, because the couple finally asks how long they've been together. When she opens her mouth to reply, she freezes—she's almost said that they aren't together. Her answer is quickly amended to "A few years," but the fleeting expression he gives her tells her that he's hurt.

She finds that the couple gets curious about her life with him, and she's suddenly required to use the best of her story-telling ability to come up with a joint history that may be palatable to the public eye. Sweet, happy, and laced with just enough lovers' spats to make the whole thing seem realistically plausible, she makes them sound like the poster child for Best Couple of the Year; but it is so unlike them that even her own stomach turns at her lies.

It all comes at a price in the end, and the hurt that she feels radiates from him the moment they return to their RV tells her that it is one they will both pay for dearly.

xoxo

He is lying on his side, away from her, when she climbs onto the bed; she inches as close as dares to and gently touches his arm. His muscles flex under her fingers.

"You're ashamed of us," he says quietly.

"No. I'm not," she insists shakily.

"Really. Then what was that all about? Exercising your creativity? Crafting some romantic story out of unicorns and _castles _in the air?"

"I couldn't tell them that we've been together for only a week."

"_Less _than a week." Try as she might, the words still sting her heart. "Best five days I've had in a long time. Guess they just weren't as important for you."

"They were. _They were._"

"Then why lie about them? Your ego needed some stroking? _Five days is all we have. _I don't know why you can't accept that."

"Tony, if I had told them that we've been together for only five days, they would have wanted to know the rest of the story."

"They wanted to know the rest of the story, anyway. Might as well have told them the truth; given them some gossip to bring home to their water-cooler friends. But I'm sure you had a fun time crafting that nice little talefor them. Hey, who am I to complain? It sounded awesome. And you know what the ironic thing about that is? You're so good at lying that I'm pretty sure they bought it. _Well done._" He jerks his arm out from under her hand. "Just leave me alone tonight, okay? I can't talk to you right now."

"Okay," she whispers brokenly. She nods even though he can't see her and gathers her pillow, taking it out into the dinette.

A few simple moves has a bed set up there, and she curls onto her side in it, turning her face into her pillow so that he will never know she cried herself to sleep.

xoxo

Sudden warmness around her in the middle of the night has her jerking awake, and she looks up to see that he is lifting her in both of his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. He refuses to meet her gaze, but sets her down onto her side and pulls the covers over her, tucking her in with heart-breaking gentleness.

He crosses over to his side and climbs into bed before turning his back to her and drawing the blankets over himself. He's without a pillow, she realizes, and that's when she becomes aware that he'd left her pillow in the dinette, and that the softness under her head carries a hint of his scent.

Her lip starts to tremble again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Knot Hole Gallery, **_**which is the gallery Tony and Ziva visited, is situated in Sunnyside, Washington. It sells prints and canvases of Thomas Kinkade art, as well as other gift items and collectibles. There is no official website, but here! Website: www(dot)americantowns(dot)com(slash)wa/sunnyside/organization/knot_hole_gallery**

**The little titbit about Sunnyside being a major apple-production area comes courtesy of **_**mprmusings**_**! Thanks for giving me something to write about Washington :)**

**The **_**Diamond T Ranch **_**is a ranch open for overnight RV camping. Several activities are available on the ranch, including campfire rings and petting pens, hiking and mushroom-picking along wooded trails, bicycle-riding, and horseback-riding courtesy the ranch's neighbours. Website: www(dot)diamondtranch(dot)com/index(dot)htm**

**Hope you enjoyed; thank you for reading, and please review!**

**-_Soph_**


	16. Day Eighteen

**Day Eighteen**

She doesn't sleep well that night, but it still comes as a shock to her when she opens her eyes to the faint light of morning and discovers him awake, sitting propped up against the headboard and staring into nothingness.

He still doesn't meet her eyes, but he does open his mouth to utter a single word that sounds almost like a gentle order, "Sleep."

She gets up anyway and copies his sitting position. "I can't."

"Why not?"

She pauses, feeling torn between telling him rationally and flinging herself wailing into his arms. She chooses in between. "Because I'm sorry. I'm sorry about wha—"

"You are right. We're messed up."

"No," she protests, growing cold and numb all at the same time. "We're—"

"We _were _messed up." He lifts a shoulder and drops it. "I can't change the past, Ziva. You don't know how much I wish I could just turn back the clock and get everything right. And screw Jeanne and that _stupid _assignment, and I'd just treat you better this time. You don't know how much I wish I hadn't shot Rivkin and there hadn't been Saleem Ulman, and you don't_ know, _Ziva, how _ashamed_ of myself I am. God, I let you….

"I'm can't be ashamed of us. Because you're the one thing in my life that I'm proudest of. But I don't know how to change things, y'know … as much as I want to, I can't go back make everything alright again. I can only beg for your forgiveness and hope you don't remember me as the man who screwed your life up." He finally looks at her. "Zi, you deserve someone you can have a clean slate with, who'll treat you well and whom you don't have to be ashamed of. So from now on…"

"You promised you would never walk away again," she tells him accusingly, not letting him finish his sentence, and his face crumbles. "You're not allowed to leave; remember _that. _I'm not letting you leave."

She doesn't recall moving at all, but the next thing she knows, he is in her arms and it is he, not she, who trembles with the effort of keeping it all together. She is angry, _so angry, _because he had said he would not walk away and yet now there he is, spewing _crap_ about how she deserves better.

She punches his arm hard. "What is wrong with you, that you would think I am _ashamed _of you? I wish our past never happened but it _happened, _Tony, and _so what_ if I don't want to talk about it? Why the _hell _would you think that means I'm ashamed of us?"

"Because I am of myself," he answers hoarsely, and she feels a tear roll down her cheek as he buries his face into her shoulder.

xoxo

It takes four-and-a-half hours, several reassurances, and his falling asleep with his head nestled in her lap for him to lose the haunted expression that she hopes _never _to see in his eyes again.

She had wondered, when he'd whimpered and suddenly grabbed her leg in his sleep, if he'd worn this expression years back while he'd thought she was dead; it is the first time she has ever dared to think back and ask herself how _he_ had coped with everything. It has never occurred to her that he might still be harbouring guilt and pain over her torture after all these years, because she certainly doesn't hold him responsible for something that was the direct result of her own choice. It is a choice she will regret to her dying day, but that is all the more proof that the shame should be hers to bear, not his.

He chooses this moment to open his eyes, blinking up at her with something between hope and penitence. She smiles as comfortingly as she can and runs her hand through his hair, and his eyelids flutter shut. He presses a kiss to her wrist before opening his eyes again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"For what?" she asks, and even though she has more than a vague idea by now, she knows he needs to get it off his chest.

"For shooting Rivkin … for Jeanne. For treating you badly. For everything I've ever done wrong. I'm sorry, Ziva. Please forgive me."

She closes her eyes and nods, stroking his hair. "Forgiven."

"Thank you."

She opens her eyes and gazes quietly at him. "I'm sorry, too. For lying yesterday. I should not have done it, and … Tony, it is important that you know I am not ashamed of us _or_ you_. _But I can't just come right out and say that I was … tortured. Even if I don't talk about those few months, there is always Ray…. It is easier for me to lie, you understand? I know it's not the right thing, but—"

She is silenced by another kiss to her wrist. "I get it."

She breathes out, rubbing his fine hairs in between her fingers. "I'm glad you do."

"Can I ask something of you, though?"

"Yes."

"Can I give input on those lies? 'Cause I kinda … want it to be our thing."

She raises her eyebrows at him, a small smile curving her lips. "You want lying to be our thing?"

"No. I want … us working together … to be our thing."

She blinks back her tears and nods firmly. "Deal."

He lifts his hand and to bring hers away from his hair, and then entwines his fingers tightly with hers. "Deal."

xoxo

He refuses to relinquish his hold on her hand after that, until she manages to convince him that it's physically impossible for her to go to the bathroom (_without _his being present) if their hands are to be linked the entire time.

His apparent need to be comforted and petted for a while causes them to miss a planned bike ride, but she doesn't mind; it is the first time she has seen this strangely trusting, strangely vulnerable side of him. She thinks that while his pride has been shattered, something in him is finally healing, because the tension that has been in his shoulders for years is no longer as obvious.

When she steps out of the bathroom, he is just getting their late breakfast started. She ignores the way her stomach rumbles in favour of the way he smiles at her, his face almost glowing—this isn't his charmer's grin or his jokester smirk, or even his I've-got-this-covered smile; this is him beaming solely because he's happy.

She finds it very hard to stop kissing him just because the teakettle on the range starts whistling.

xoxo

"I love how this messes with my head," he tells her as he walks back and forth along the platform that rests on one of the demarcation lines of the Montana Vortex, and she laughs. He steps onto a cement slab and shrinks a good six inches. He grins. "Look, I'm only slightly taller than you now."

She scrunches her nose at him. "You should not be proud of _shrinking._"

"It's only a temporary condition." He steps onto another slab, returning to regular height, and rests his hands on his hips. "Aren't you going to try it?"

"I do not see the point in walking along a strip of cement just to see myself shrink and grow."

"Spoilt sport," he teases. "You should do it; let me take a picture for Abby."

"Are you really taking this one for Abby, or are you just using her as an excuse to get me to walk the platform?"

"Oh, c'mon. Vortexes? Totally her thing."

It's true. She shrugs and reluctantly trudges over to the platform.

xoxo

"You're an intriguing woman," he pipes up as they walk among the rows of quilts being displayed at the Flatiron Quilt Show, stopping at each so that she can have a better look. She blinks at him, startled.

"Why?"

"'Cause I never took you for a quilt kinda woman. You were all guns and castration threats, and now you're all homey with the quilts and Hoosier cabinets. You're homey."

"Do you have an issue with me being homey?"

"No. I kinda like it. But, y'know…" He shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm still having to get used to it."

"I was always homey," she admits. "It just does not tend to go well with Mossad."

"So, what, you suppressed it?"

"I didn't admit to it. It is not so hard to hide these things about myself, Tony. I just have to come up with more castration threats."

"Huh."

She studies a block-patterned quilt beside her. "What do you think of this one as bedspread?"

"What, for our RV?" he questions in alarm.

She rolls her eyes. "For my _apartment. _Not that I would put it out on a normal day, but it is good for when I am washing my covers."

"Oh. It's nice, I guess, but it's not for sale."

"The vendors may have it. Or I could make my own."

"You _quilt?_" he asks incredulously.

"Are you going to use that tone each time I say something you didn't expect?"

"Uh … no…?"

"Aunt Nettie taught me how to quilt. But I haven't quilted since I was a child, when I helped her … for all I know, I could have forgotten how to do it by now."

"Hmm. Aunt Nettie sounds cool."

"She is. She thinks you are smart, too. She used your technique and got one of her friends to play 'husband' for her on a phone call to her boyfriend."

He laughs sheepishly. "Glad I could help."

"She would like to meet you."

"Sh—what?"

"She would like to meet you. She has had the invitation extended since you decided you wanted to be married to me."

His face turns a shade of red that matches the quilt nicely. "Uhm…"

She quirks her lips in amusement. "I told her I would take you to meet her someday. But seeing how your first conversation went, I am not sure if that's such a bright idea."

"I won't threaten her again…?"

"Oh, so you _do _want to meet her?"

"Wait, were you tricking me into this?"

"Yes."

"Sneaky."

"So will you do it?"

He pauses with his mouth halfway open, and then eventually nods. "Yes."

She smiles gratefully and gives his hand a squeeze. "I will tell her, then."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Montana Vortex and House of Mystery **_**is claimed to be "a genuine quantum, or gravitational anomaly that may re-define the laws of physics and nature;" among its attractions is the House of Mystery, which has slanted walls and floors to accentuate the power of the vortex, and the Platform, a cement area where you will shrink when you stand on one end and return to regular height when you stand on another. Regardless of whether this phenomenon is true or untrue, it sounds like a fun place that I think Tony would've wanted to visit :D Website: www(dot)montanavortex(dot)com**

**The **_**Flatiron Quilt Show: Quilt Keepers n' Garden Tenders **_**is an annual quilt show held by the Flatiron Quilting Guild, with demonstrations and workshops, quilts sold and displayed, and even a tearoom with homemade cookies :D and yes, it's held only on the weekend that Tony and Ziva are in Montana (April 28/29). Website: visitmt(dot)com(slash)?IDRRecordID=12293&siteid=1**

**Eh, I'm actually not sure about this chapter, haha, but I hope you enjoyed it. Just so you know, though, a lot of the latter half of this story is built on this chapter, so if you _didn't _enjoy it, perhaps it would be prudent to ... tread carefully from now on :( lol. Thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	17. Days Nineteen & Twenty

**About Chapter 16 (Day Eighteen) of the fic: I swear, honest to goodness, that I _did _post it at the time that I promised to. However, FFN hadn't been functioning very well on that day :( email alerts were sent late to some (including myself), and I don't know if they are still missing for anyone else. I'm just informing you guys in case anyone missed the last chapter! Thank you for your understanding.**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Nineteen<strong>

"Nine hours," she groans as they make their way across the parking lot towards another greasy diner alongside the I-90, halfway through their trip across the state of Montana. "I cannot believe it takes _nine _hours to get across Montana."

"Probably more than that; it's only nine hours 'cause we stopped at Arlee last night." He sounds more tired than she feels, and she frowns at him in concern.

"I'm driving the rest of the way."

"I thought we agreed I'd only let you do that if you didn't speed."

"Did I say I would speed?"

He gazes at her curiously. "Now that I think about it, you didn't speed when I let you drive in Idaho, either. Since when did you become such a law-abiding citizen?"

She scowls. "The museum will not be open if we get there earlier. Yes?"

"Yeah. Not worried about ambushes anymore, huh?"

"I'm more worried that you will fall asleep at the wheel."

He snorts and holds the door open for her, and she's glad he doesn't press, because if he had then she would have had to admit that it's really because she's not particularly keen on finding more ways to break their as-yet-fragile relationship.

xoxo

She frowns at the exhibits in the Homesteaders area of the Carter County Museum, confused, until he asks her what's eating her.

"Well, I find these … household items of the pioneers … very interesting," she answers, "but I still don't know what a homesteader is."

He chuckles. "It's a person who gets a piece of land from the government and lives there, and grows stuff, I guess."

"'Stuff'?"

"Well, Montana and some western states used to be pretty uninhabitable. No irrigation. So the government offered land to those who were willing to irrigate the place … I think that's how the story goes. Yeah. Anyway, these people irrigated the place and grew stuff and reared things that ate the stuff … mostly cattle. Cattle ate the stuff."

"Oh. So they were people who took on what others wouldn't?"

He gives a tiny shrug. "They were called pioneers for a reason."

"Hmm."

xoxo

"Okay, I really have to know," he says over dinner, and she looks up at him questioningly. "What's Aunt Nettie like?"

She cocks her head. "Have you been wondering that since last night?"

"On and off, yeah."

"Well…" she pauses and thinks. "I guess you could say she is to me who Penny is to McGee."

"Really? So, your inspirational role model, then?"

"That, and she is my constant." She shrugs and looks back down at her dinner. "When my mother took me and my siblings away from my father … things were hard. They felt different, even though my father was never really there when I was a child…. Aunt Nettie helped me cope with it; and throughout the years, she has helped me cope with a lot of things. I have not seen her for years, but we keep in touch. Emails, phone calls. She is the one person who has been constant throughout my whole life."

"Wow."

She smiles at him. "That would be one word to describe her. She is _wow._"

"You never mentioned her much, though."

"Well, it must be no secret to anyone that I keep my life in Israel and my life in America separate." She sees hurt flicker across his eyes. "_Not _because I want to keep things from you. It is simply that … my memories of Israel sometimes hurt."

He lets out a hum. "Guess I can understand that."

She gives him a weak smile. "Someday, I may tell you about them. But for now … let's see. The defining trait of Aunt Nettie is that she is a good cook."

"Like you."

"Aunt Nettie is the 'homey' one," she answers, tickled by his analogy. "Her sister—my mother—was the artistic one … all about art and music. So, yes. Aunt Nettie taught me how to cook. Not that my mother did not, but she was not as good at cooking as Aunt Nettie."

He nods, watching her as if he expects her to continue.

She obliges. "Two children, both married now. Both quite a bit older than me, and maybe that was why Aunt Nettie could invest as much time in me as she had … Aunt Nettie did not marry Mossad. Until my uncle's death, her family was a good example of 'perfect' where mine was not."

"I can relate."

"Yes?"

"Yeah. Y'know, seeing other people's families … made me wish my mum hadn't passed away and my dad still cared."

She reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers. "I'm sorry."

He rubs his thumb against her skin, giving her a small smile. "Tell me more about Aunt Nettie."

"I can't really describe her." She furrows her brows. "There is just something about her that would make you feel safe in her presence. I think you will like her."

He titters nervously. "I think the more pertinent question is whether she'll like me."

Her eyes widen, and she almost laughs aloud at the epiphany. "You are anxiousabout meeting her, aren't you?"

"Well, she's your inspirational constant role-modelly person!" he replies defensively. She chuckles.

"She is easy to please, Tony. You just have to show her that you have good intentions."

He relaxes a tiny fraction. "I think I can do that."

"Atta boy," she teases, and he makes a face and throws a pea at her.

xoxo

**Day Twenty**

She hears him laughing rather maniacally the moment they remove their go-kart helmets, and for a moment she is strongly tempted to join in because go-kart at 1806 Wheels and Sticks turns out to be extremely fun, after all.

Then he turns to her with his eyes sparkling and his teeth flashing, and her laughter turns into an indulgent smile because seeing him like this gives her the bigger thrill, really.

"So," she begins. "I guess this is one thing on your bucket list that you've done."

"Yeah." He grins happily. "And when we're finished with this road trip then it'll be two items. Twenty-four more to go."

"I thought there were only twenty-four items to begin with?"

"I added two more later." His grin grows mysterious. "Someday I'll tell you about them."

She makes a small sound of curiosity. "Can you not tell me about them now?"

He thinks about it and shakes his head. "Nah, we're not ready. But I do want to tell you."

"They concern us. And … being ready." She mulls over his words, but he distracts her before she can form a conclusion by planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Ziva," he warns lightly. "Trust my judgement on this one. I don't want to screw us up, and that's why I'm not telling you yet, okay? But I will, if we ever get to the point where we're ready."

She furrows her brows, but nods. "Okay."

He grins again. "You look cute when you scrunch up your face like that."

She blinks in surprise at his unexpected display of affection. He chuckles, mingling the fingers of his free hand with hers and leading them off to return the go-kart gear.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**It takes about nine-and-a-half to drive from Taft (the westernmost town in Montana if you're going in through the I-90) to Wibaux (the easternmost town in Montana if you're exiting through the I-94) if travelling horizontally across Montana on an interstate highway the entire time, without stopping. **_**Arlee**_** is about 90 miles east of Taft while Ekalaka (where Tony and Ziva were headed) is about 80 miles south of Wibaux. In case anyone was interested in knowing, haha.**

**The **_**Carter County Museum **_**in Ekalaka, Montana, is a county-owned museum containing exhibits of the belongings of military veterans (including those who had fought in Desert Storm), cowboys from the Texas cattle drive, Native Americans, and homesteaders. They also have dinosaur fossils, the most prominent of which is a Triceratops skull that is 6.5 feet (2 metres) long. Website: www(dot)cartercountymuseum-ekalaka(dot)org/index(dot)html**

**Please pardon me if I'm wrong about the pioneers and homesteaders :D we don't have those here. Not to my knowledge, anyway.**

_**1806 Wheels & Sticks**_** is an establishment in South Dakota offering miniature golf and go-karts, among other amusements. During my research I also came across 1806 Wheels ****Water**** & Sticks, also in Fort Pierre, South Dakota, which turns out to be a retailer for auto parts and supplies, so don't get the two confused! Hehe. There is no website for **_**1806 Wheels & Sticks**_**; the one from the South Dakota tourism website will have to do: www(dot)travelsd(dot)com(slash)Attractions/Details?id=97970**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	18. Day TwentyOne

**Day Twenty-One**

"Do you know what I just realized?" she asks over breakfast, her tone sombre.

"What?" He frowns at glass jar in front of him. "We're outta jam, by the way."

"We still have the chocolate spread," she answers. "I was going to say that we have been on this trip for twenty days."

He glances at her, distracted. And then he blinks dazedly, as if something has just hit him, and his voice is hoarse when he says, "We've only thirteen days left plus the weekend."

She nods. "I think twenty days is pretty incredible. Considering we have not killed each other yet."

"Yeah…" he replies, still distracted. "Kinda don't want this to end, though."

"You knew it had to."

"Yeah, but after this we go back to the real world, and … God knows what things will be like there."

"What do you mean?"

He opens and shuts his mouth. "Y'know, just Gibbs breathing down our necks and all … do you think we'll be able to last, Ziva?"

It's her turn to be at a loss for words. He sighs and puts down his toast, looking like he's lost his appetite, so she reaches across the table and curls her fingers around his. "Yes," she answers with as much conviction as she can show him.

He studies their linked fingers. "You sound so sure."

"I _am. _I will not let us fall apart because of a silly reason such as returning to work. That is unacceptable."

He gives her a crooked smile and lifts her hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss onto her skin. "Y'know, I won't be able to keep from telling you for much longer if you continue to be so … wise."

She chuckles and chooses to ignore the first half of his sentence, knowing he's not ready to share just yet. "'Wise'?"

"Yeah." He gazes seriously at her. "Promise me we'll work out."

She hesitates. "Tony—"

"I know it's not a realistic promise and all, but I … can't deal with realistic right now."

She swallows and nods. "Of course we will work out. And maybe one day…"

"Maybe." His fingers tighten around hers in affirmation.

She rubs her thumb against his hand. "We will talk about that eventually. But for now … finish your toast. It's getting cold."

It's his turn to chuckle. "You sound like a mother."

She shrugs. "Perhaps I need the practice."

xoxo

"This is very like the puppetry centre we visited in Atlanta," she comments as they set foot inside the Klown Doll Museum. She studies the roomful of clown figurines with a frown; he laughs.

"Klowns with a 'K' and puppets? How do you get that?"

"A collection of puppets from all around the world and a collection of clowns from all over the world. Do you not see the link?"

She sees him shrug out of the corner of her eye. "They're specialty museums."

"Hmm."

"If you had to choose between clowns and puppets, which would you pick?" he asks as they move towards one of the shelves on which sits some of the exhibits.

"Puppets," she says promptly, and he looks at her.

"Why don't you even have to think about that?"

"It is simple. If I picked puppets, I could have clown puppets."

"Yeah, but if you picked the other way 'round you could have puppet clowns."

"I would rather have a collection of puppets than a collection of clowns."

"Clowns are awesome!" he protests, looking aghast.

"Fine. You could collect the clowns and I could collect the puppets, and we would not have anything to argue about."

"I don't collect."

"Neither do I."

"Then why are we having this argument in the first place?"

"You asked me to pick between clowns and puppets."

"Oh. Right."

"Can we stop now?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat uncomfortably.

Suppressing laughter, she jerks her head towards another shelf. "I spy clown paintings. Now that is something I think you would not mind collecting."

xoxo

"This is a nice … neighbourhood." Puzzled, she looks around the Honouring-the-Clans Sculpture Garden, which turns out to be an empty square with twelve life-sized statues of Native Americans in it.

"Disappointed?" he asks from a few metres away, where he's studying one of the sculptures with interest.

"No, fascinated. But do you not think the sculptures are in a strange place?"

"Well, they're in the middle of the Village and facing a learning centre. It's not bad."

"I guess so." She leans forward and reads the plaque of another one of the sculptures. "_Huç Hikikarac._"

He grumbles from behind the camera he has lifted to take pictures. "Oh, _please _don't tell me you speak Ho-Chunk."

"I do not," she admits, "but it would be nice to learn. I do not speak any Native American languages."

"Don't you speak enough languages already? You haven't even started your Chinese language classes." The shutter clicks.

"One can never speak enough languages."

"You sound like the Ziva-fied version of Yoda." She furrows her brows. "Oh, c'mon. _Star Wars? _'Do … or do not. There is no try.' Ring a bell?"

"I know who Yoda is. I just don't think I speak like him." He lowers the camera and tilts his head. "Oh, no. You're not getting me to quote him."

"Ah, it'll be fun! 'Destro—'"

"I'm not saying it."

"Please?"

"_No._"

He pouts. "You're no fun."

She rolls her eyes and quotes, "'Destroy the Sith, we must.'" He gapes in shock. "There. Now we are done. No more quotes, yes?"

"You knew that one," he says incredulously. "I didn't even tell you what the quote was, and you _knew _that one."

She grins. "I did."

"Oh, my god."

"What?" she asks in feigned innocence.

"Oh, my god. Hold on just a sec, I think I may need to go and kiss you for a bit."

She laughs so hard that giggles still escape her in between kisses.

xoxo

"You know you're gonna have to watch all the _Star Wars _movies with me now," he warns as they step back into the RV, and she groans.

"I should _not _have quoted Yoda."

"Well, I considered it progress in your assimilation into normal, non-terrorist-fighting-but-movie-watching mainstream society. Don't regress now."

"You just want to hear me quote more Yoda."

"That would be a plus." He starts the RV engine and fastens his seat belt. "Besides, it could be our thing."

She makes herself comfortable in her own seat. "I thought working together was our thing."

"That, too."

"You cannot have two 'things.' Don't I get any say in this?"

"Okay." He backs up the RV. "What do you want to be our thing?"

She thinks about it. "This. Travelling together."

He shoots her a startled look. "A second road trip?"

"Not necessarily. But I have not forgotten that we are supposed to go to Disneyland together. You promised, yes?"

"Yeah … but … that could take a while, Zi. I mean … well, my bank account's kinda empty right now."

"As mine will be once I pay you back for this trip. But we could save up for this." She gives him a tiny glare. "You're not backing out, are you?"

"No, I'm not," he reassures her hastily. "Just a bit of forewarning that we'll probably have to fill our schedules with overtime for a while if we ever want to do this 'travelling together' thing."

"I know."

"Okay."

"Do you mind?" she asks quietly, noticing his seriousness.

He scrunches up his nose. "Kinda."

"Oh." Her heart sinks. "Forge—"

"It's not the overtime or the travelling I mind, Ziva. I was just kinda thinking we might want to save up for … other … things … eventually."

"Like what?"

"Like um … chil- … y'know, just, what if we work out and we decide to … take this further?"

"Oh," she gasps with sudden understanding. She pauses and chews on her lip. "Yes. I think we should reconsider Disneyland."

He shoots her a small smile. "It'd be nice if we could go to Disneyland in the future, under different circumstances from now, y'know?"

"Yes," she agrees, and even though she knows it's much too soon and maybe a little unadvisable to be—_what's the saying?_—counting their chickens as yet, she likes the idea. "It would be very nice."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Klown Doll Museum **_**in Plainview, Nebraska, is home to a collection of clown dolls and paintings (all donated, and some from foreign countries). Plainview is the Klown Kapital (with a **_**K, **_**yo~) of Nebraska, and thus host to many clown-related events, including the Plainview Klown Band, the Klown Festival, and of course, the museum. Website: www(dot)klowndollmuseum(dot)com/index(dot)html**

**The **_**Honouring-the-Clans **_**(that's "Honoring-" for those of you using American English :P) **_**Sculpture Garden and Cultural Plaza **_**sits in the middle of the Winnebago Tribe's Ho-Chunk Village. Ho-Chunk is the name the Winnebago Indians have for themselves; today, there are two Winnebago tribes—the Ho-Chunk Nation in Wisconsin, and the Winnebago tribe in Nebraska. They also have their own originally unwritten language, which is, I (and therefore Tony and Ziva) assume, what is inscribed onto the plaques of the twelve life-sized statues representing each of the Tribe's clans. Website: www(dot)visitnebraska(dot)gov/component/myplanner/detail/attractions®ionList=/2000786**

**The official Ho-Chunk website doesn't have much on those statues, so if you want pictures and a description of the place: homerstravels(dot)com(slash)2010/08/nebraska-byways-passport-forts-clans(dot)html**

**I got basic information about the Ho-Chunk Indians from here: www(dot)bigorrin(dot)org/hochunk_kids(dot)htm**

**The two Yoda quotes—"Do … or do not. There is no try," and "Destroy the Sith, we must—" come from **_**Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back **_**and **_**Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith **_**respectively. I do not own any concepts, movies, or merchandise related to **_**Star Wars**_**!**

**Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed!**

**-_Soph_**


	19. Day TwentyTwo

**So ... I guess you guys will kill me, haha, but I forgot to mention two chapters ago that the two new items on the bucket list we've already seen in the prequel, _Memoir._ Because Tony was reluctant at the time to let Ziva know about "25. Discuss Paris" and "26. Tell Her" (from the original bucket list, which I do not own), he waited until she left before adding the modified versions of these two items. The scene from _Memoir _is as follows:**

**"It's nearing three in the morning when she takes her leave and he bids her goodbye at the front door, and as he locks up, he realizes that he is exhausted, but that his heart is lighter than it has been all week. Maybe there's something to be said about letting her get closer, after all.**

**He slips back into the kitchen and stands gazing at his (Saved) bucket list. Making up his mind, he leans over his laptop and very deliberately types down the last two items:**

**_25. Discuss, with Ziva, Paris and our bucket-list items._**

**_26. Tell Ziva._"**

**And that's it :D nothing new, really. I know, I know, my fault! I'm so sorry for this grievous oversight; I wasn't paying as much attention to the chapter as I should have. But to make it up to you, here, have some more Tiva!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-Two<strong>

"This is _awesome,_" he says excitedly as they stand facing the Danish Windmill Museum in Iowa. "It's like in the pictures, except even more awesome because it's so…"

"Idealistic?" she finishes.

"No, more like a fantasy. Like something you'd see in a picture book."

She laughs sceptically. "How would you know what they have in picture books?"

"I had some when I was a boy," he answers defensively. "And before you ask: No, they didn't have mothers in aprons and little girls playing house in them. They were manly books. With castles and forts."

"Mmm. I think I had those same books."

"I would once have said 'I'm not surprised,' but in light of your new hominess…" He grabs her hand. "C'mon. Look at all the Danish buildings. I have a feeling we're gonna enjoy exploring this place."

xoxo

"Who knew this little thing could bring so much joy?" He scrutinizes the object in his possession, twirling it about and rolling it from hand to hand.

"You are supposed to look through it, Tony, not play with it like that."

"I know, but I've already seen the pretty colours."

"I thought the pattern is supposed to change each time you look?"

He shrugs and holds the kaleidoscope out to her. "You wanna see?"

She takes it from him, shaking her head, and looks into the kaleidoscope. "Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting a little boy."

"Hey! It was your idea to go to the Kaleidoscope Factory."

"Because I wanted to see how these things were made," she explains. "You have to admit, Olson was a pretty good teacher."

"Yeah," he agrees. "He was nice. Hey, you think Gibbs knows how to make kaleidoscopes?"

"I don't know," she answers as she lowers the wooden cylinder to look at him. "I have never seen him make one."

"Hmm. He's such a wood fiend and all. I bet he'd benefit from a couple of kaleidoscope-making classes from Olson. Or, you know, one of the other classes offered at the _College of Leonard_," he finishes with a flourish. "We should suggest he go there."

She snickers. "Because he would not headslap us from DC into Virginia for the suggestion."

"It was a good suggestion," he grumbles. "Gibbs should extend his skills. He can't be just carving wood forever; DC will run out of wood for him eventually. I mean, jump-rope-making? That's right up Gibbs' alley."

"Yes, but Gibbs likes carving wood. It keeps him happy."

"You think he ever gets lonely, down there in that basement with nothing but wood and bourbon?"

She lifts a shoulder and drops it. "He says he is never lonely."

"Hmm. Wouldn't really like to be him, though."

"You don't have to be."

"Some people say I'm a second Gibbs, minus the gut feelings and Superman cape."

"You are also the second Anthony DiNozzo in your family, but you are nothing like your father."

"Now, I wouldn't say that. I'm very like him in some respects."

"Maybe, but only in the good ones." She leans over and kisses his cheek. "Have a little faith in yourself. I think you are pretty good at being your own man, Tony."

The twinkle in his eyes betrays his happiness, but his cheeky grin tells her that he's about to make a joke. "Don't make me say sappy things like, 'It's all because of you, Ziva.'"

She laughs. "I would not believe it, anyway."

"Seriously, though." He weaves his fingers through hers. "I think you've changed me a little in a way that is conducive to … our being here."

She chuckles and squeezes his hand. "I am glad, then."

xoxo

"Can't believe I let you talk me into this," he complains nervously from the bathroom doorway as he smoothens down the sleeves of his shirt.

Amused, she caps her lipstick and studies her reflection in the mirror. "Tony, it is just a play."

"I don't do well with sitting still and watching other people perform."

She sniggers. "Yes, I am aware of that."

He looks at her in exasperation. "Are you done yet? I need to pee."

"Mmhmm." She presses past him and calls through the shutting bathroom door, "Don't be too long!"

xoxo

He falls asleep halfway through the journey back to the RV park from the Marion Ross Performing Arts Centre, where they'd been watching a play held by the Albert Lea Community Theatre.

He'd been quiet enough throughout the play, fidgety in the beginning but managing to settle down and even laugh in the right places in the end; and even though it'd been a very minor accomplishment for a very grown man, she feels strangely proud of him. She thinks she might tell him that. Too rarely has there been anyone to tell him so.

The journey back to the RV park takes twenty minutes less than the journey from because she dares to speed down the relatively empty highway now that he isn't looking, and he is still sound asleep by the time she pulls into their lot.

He startles when she reaches over to rouse him, so she pats his arm gently until he calms down. "We are back," she tells him.

He looks around in confusion. "That was fast."

She shrugs and tries to look innocent. "You were asleep."

"And you were speeding," he replies, narrowing his eyes just enough to get his message across before a yawn interrupts him. She chuckles.

"Go to bed. I will join you soon."

xoxo

She expects him to be dead to the world when she enters the bedroom after brushing her teeth, but instead his eyes are wide open and staring at the ceiling. He turns on his side to look at her as she climbs into bed, and she touches his cheek lightly, confused.

"I have a question," he confesses quietly. She waits for him to ask it, yet he hesitates. "But it involves … never mind."

"Tony, what is it?" She scoots closer as he rolls onto his back, and it seems almost a reflex for his hand to find hers.

"It's just Ray."

Stiffening, she rubs her temple and tries not to let the last word grate on her nerves, but she is still a little short-tempered when she says, "Alright. Let us get it out of the way, yes?"

"Nah, it's … y'know, I don't have to ask it."

"_Tony. _Just ask." The nervous look in his eyes makes her feel a little bad for snapping at him, so she raises herself up onto her elbow to lean over him and softens her tone. "If you do not ask … it will consume you. You will be wondering about it for a long time to come, and I know you, Tony. You cannot live without closure. So just ask. I will give you closure."

He opens and shuts his mouth once. "Y'know, just … you went to plays with him, right?"

"Yes."

"You ever miss it? Having someone there who appreciates the same things as you?"

"Sometimes," she admits, but his defeated expression makes her reach desperately for his face. She rubs her thumb across his cheekbone gently. "Not when I'm with you."

"Y'know, I just want you to have someone you can share stuff with who makes you happy."

"You do not think you make me happy?"

"I think I make you laugh. But maybe that's not enough. Maybe you need…" he struggles to get his words out, but they seem to manifest only in the way that his eyes suddenly seem less dry.

"I need you." She brushes her thumb over his wet lashes, and he gives her a half-shocked, half-bewildered look. "Tony, if I want to go to plays, I can bring Ducky. If I want to visit a book store, McGee can come along. And if I ever have a wish for sanding wood, then Gibbs is the person to go to. But you are the person I share my memories with. My hopes and dreams. You don't make me happy because we have the same preferences; you make me happy because I know I can trust you with my life and … my heart."

He breathes out slowly. "So I really make you happy?"

"Yes," she answers, and gives him a kiss for emphasis. "You make me very happy."

"Even though I'm not the best person to bring to plays?"

"It is irrelevant." She pauses for a second before deciding to elaborate, "When I was with Ray … it was nice knowing that I had a boyfriend whom I could share all these things with. But we did not have this—sharing secrets and worries and … everyday things. I like _this. _It is not that hard to find someone with the same preferences as me—all I would have to do is join a club. But being able to talk about the most mundane of things with another person is rare. I am glad to have found it."

A small smile curls the corners of his lips. "I love you, Ziv—"

She doesn't know who is more surprised by the words, but horror starts to flood his eyes as shock starts to flood her veins. "Sorry," he splutters hastily. "I didn't mean—well, I mean I mean it, but I—"

She presses a finger to his lips, and he stops, eyes wide. "Don't take it back," she gasps out. "_Don't._ I just need a moment to absorb this."

He falls silent and stares at her, eyes still wide, and as she tries to calm her breathing she realizes that she likes what he's just said. A lot.

She feels her mouth stretch into a beam, and by the relief slowly inching its way onto his face, he sees it. "You … you love me," she repeats, and he nods slowly against her finger. She feels compelled to stall for time by checking, though. "Romantically?"

The "Duh" expression on his face is what finally breaks through her shock and causes her stomach to seize in a fit of giggles. She buries her face into his shoulder, trying to compose herself, and he rubs her back gently. When she is able to lift her head again, it thrills her to discover that in his eyes resides an expression so sweet and intense that it makes shivers of excitement run through her.

So she takes a deep breath and reaches for the courage in herself to say the words. "I love you, too."

And the way his eyes light up will never get old.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Danish Windmill Museum **_**in Elk Horn, Iowa, is the only authentic working Danish windmill in the U.S. Along with the VikingHjem (a 900 A.D. Viking smithy's home), the Danish Immigrant Museum, Bedstemor's Hus ("grandmother's house"), and several other Danish attractions, this windmill resides within one of the largest Danish villages in the States. (And this is just my personal opinion, but everything looks so **_**prettyyyyy…**_**) Website: www(dot)danishwindmill(dot)com**

**The **_**Kaleidoscope Factory **_**in Pomeroy, Iowa, is run by a man named Leonard Olson, who makes wooden kaleidoscopes, spurtles (wooden sticks used by the Irish to stir food in pots), and dibbers (an 18****th**** and 19****th**** century tool for crop-planting), among other things. He also runs the **_**College of Leonard **_**in his back room and teaches craft-making skills like silk scarf marbling or creating fused glass jewellery. Website: www(dot)kaleidoscopefactory(dot)com**

**The Marion Ross Performing Arts Centre, home to the Albert Lea Community Theatre (ACT), is situated in Albert Lea, Minnesota. In case anyone's wondering, the play Tony and Ziva "went" to is the winter version of **_**How to Talk Minnesotan, **_**which happens to be performed on that day (May 2) :D ACT Website: actonbroadway(dot)com**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	20. Day TwentyThree

**Disclaimer: This chapter contains LEGO (as trademarked), which is manufactured by Denmark-based company the Lego Group. For simplicity's sake, subsequent mentions of this product I have written as "Lego," but regardless, I do not own Lego or any other creations by the Lego Group. I only buy their merchandise *wicked laughter*.**

**Enjoy!**

**-S_oph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-Three<strong>

"Do you think there are any Japanese gardens in DC?" she asks him as they stroll through the Normandale Japanese Garden.

"I don't know." He scrunches up his face. "You'd think I'd know, seeing as I've lived in DC for like what, eleven years? But I've never gone looking for one."

"What _do _you look for?" It's her turn to scrunch up her face. "It has just occurred to me that we have lived in the District of Columbia for years, but we do not know what tourist spots there are in it. At least, _I_ do not know. I have not been to many of them."

"Yeah, neither have I," he admits. "Y'know, maybe we should have a Team's Day Out."

She raises her eyebrows. "A day out? With the team?"

"Why not?" He shrugs. "Imagine Gibbs with the huge camera and an oversized T-shirt."

She snorts. "That would never happen. It would be … amusing to see Abby as a tourist, though."

"I have a feeling she'd go looking for voodoo museums or something just as … unusual." He sits down on the grass, tugging on her hand until she sits down beside him. "Maybe we'll just keep this to the two of us."

"Voodoo museums can be interesting."

"You've been in one?"

"No, but now I think I would like to."

He wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. In the moment of stillness she feels his arm come around her waist; she leans against him and tries to get used to it all because despite everything, this is still the one action that makes her heart race. Perhaps she is wrong, but she can't help thinking that this, more than everything else, speaks volumes about how far they've come.

"Okay, would you like a wedding held here?" he breaks the silence by asking. She splutters and lifts her head to look at him in incredulity.

"Are you asking?"

"No … not yet." He pauses. "Sorry, I was just doing recon."

"Recon?" she echoes in disbelief.

"Well…" He twitches a little, looking as if he's just realized his mistake. She shakes her head and pats his cheek, feeling strongly tempted to tell him not to take for granted that she will agree to marry him.

She kind of likes that he thinks it a possibility, though, so she just advises, "You can worry about it further down the line. Besides, we do not know if this garden will be taken if and when we want to get married, yes?"

"Yeah." He grimaces. "Sorry."

"You do not need to rush things," she tells him quietly.

"I know." He shuts his eyes, shaking his own head and muttering, "I'm trying not to."

She stares at him for a few long moments before resting her head back onto his shoulder. "It is okay. If it gets to be that bad, I will just muzzle you."

That draws a chuckle out of him. "Trust you to know how to keep my impulses under control."

She smirks. "I have had years to learn."

xoxo

She steals his bread at lunch.

He looks at her in astonishment for a full second before breaking into a huge grin and stealing an entire half of her fish. She pretends to be cross, but she's secretly thankful that in a way, they are rediscovering the playfulness between them which has been lost for years.

A moment's reflection tells her that this trip has brought them together in more ways than one, and that she will miss it when it is over. She is glad to have something to bring home at the end of it: She enjoys getting to know the Tony DiNozzo that exists beneath the layers of bravado and false cheer and fierce insistence on being the one who keeps everything together.

xoxo

"Do you want to go in?" she asks as he eyes the banner to the _Diana: A Celebration _exhibit in the mall longingly, and his attention snaps back to her.

He frowns. "I thought we're here so you can visit the Lego Store."

"The Lego Store closes at nine-thirty. Besides, I am not a child. I can live with never having touched Lego."

"No, you can't!" he exclaims with indignation that is almost Abby-worthy. "Whose life is complete without having been exposed to Lego at least once?"

She rolls her eyes impatiently and repeats, "Do you want to go in, Tony?"

He shrugs and answers sheepishly, "It's too expensive."

"How much is it?"

"Twenty bucks or so per adult."

"I have the money." She furrows her brows. "You do not?"

"I do, but think of how many five-dollar attractions we could visit if we skipped this."

"You want to visit this, yes?"

"It's Princess Diana…" He bounces on the balls of his feet and then grabs her elbow. "Never mind. Let's go to the Lego Store. Look, giant robot!"

She ignores the gigantic robot made of Lego bricks and towering above their heads that he's pointing to. "I can pay for your ticket."

He sighs and lowers his hand. "I'm not a charity case."

"Neither am I. But you brought me on this trip and paid for the RV rental and parks, and, I might add, have yet to collect."

"Well, I mean, I was only doing what I could to cheer you up."

"And I am doing what I can to make you happy. This is not charity, Tony. It would give me as much pleasure to see you smile as you would gain from doing something you like."

He ponders that seriously for a while before finally nodding. "Okay."

She lets him draw her in for a quick kiss to her hair in thanks, and then leads him towards the escalators. "I'm still going to pay you back when we return to DC, by the way."

"Y'know, you don't have to." He leans against the escalator's hand-rest as they ascend to the next floor. "Could let me be the gentleman that covers all expenses."

"You could always buy me flowers with the money I'm going to repay you."

"You're such a feminist."

She laughs and jerks her head at the top of the escalator. "Only because I'm a working woman. Watch your step."

xoxo

They do get to spend an hour and a half in the Lego Store in the end, and she learns two things about the little multi-coloured plastic bricks in relation to herself: One, that she hasn't the patience to take on any major endeavour using Lego bricks; and two, that she's going to subject her own children to the torture of building things out of Lego, since it appears almost to be a rite of passage.

She is rather enthralled by the already-assembled Lego objects, however (as he notes with glee), and so spends most of her time studying them. She wonders if perhaps, in a different world, she would've loved the way the pieces fit together to form things which could almost be considered works of art.

In the end, she buys a keychain of a tiny Lego City Policeman. Brown-haired and standing tall with an intimidating frown on his face, she thinks the Minifigure would look like her partner in the interrogation room if it weren't for the figure's yellow skin. She doesn't share this thought. She does, however, express her surprise at her partner's lack of teasing over the fact that she's just bought something meant for six-year-olds, but he merely shrugs and says that there shall be no teasing if he does not see it hanging from her work backpack.

She finds that she really loves this side of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Normandale Japanese Garden **_**is a two-acre (eight-thousand-square-metre) strolling garden with a lagoon, a waterfall, a koi pond, handcrafted bridges, and manicured trees and shrubs. It is situated in the Normandale Community College, but is open to the public year-round at no charge, and may be reserved for special events (like weddings). Website: www(dot)normandale(dot)edu/japanesegarden/index(dot)cfm**

**The **_**Mall of America**_** is a … well, a mall, in Bloomington, Minnesota. From February 4 to June 10 of this year, it will be hosting **_**Diana: A Celebration, **_**which****is an exhibition celebrating the life of Diana, Princess of Wales. Exhibits include Diana's royal wedding gown, family heirlooms, and personal mementos. The **_**MOA **_**is also home to a Lego store with a robot that is thirty-four feet (ten metres) tall. Website: www(dot)mallofamerica(dot)com**

**I have a Lego Minifigure of Hermione Granger from Harry Potter :D my elder sister gave it to me. Just so you know!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	21. Day TwentyFour

**Day Twenty-Four**

"Ten days," he slurs immediately after turning off his phone's alarm, and she yawns sleepily into his shoulder.

"What?"

"Only ten days left to our trip, and one of them is really a half-day."

"You think about that the moment you wake up?"

"I can't stop counting."

She groans and sits up. "Are you being afraid again that we will not work out?"

He stiffens beside her, and she blames her sleepiness for the fact that it takes her a few seconds to realize that. She turns to apologize, but finds a hardness in his eyes which she hasn't seen in a long time.

"I actually just meant I was gonna miss this." His voice is curt; his movements jerky as he swings his legs off the bed and makes his way out of the room faster than she can blink.

She follows him immediately, scrambling off the bed and pushing the heel of her hand against the bathroom door just in time to stop it from snapping shut. "Tony, I am sorry," she says, pleading him to listen to her. "I was not thinking. I'm sorry."

She hears a sigh, and then the bathroom door swings open slowly to reveal his tired expression. "It wasn't easy telling you those things," he begins quietly.

"I know. I am sorry."

"You know me. You know it's so much easier for me to drink myself into oblivion than to tell you these things. I'm trying here, Ziva. What do you want, for me to be sure we'll work out? For me to _pretend _to be sure?" He rubs his face. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you it's too late now. I can't turn back. I don't know how to. So you're either gonna have to take this mess, all of this … whatever I am … or leave it."

"You are not an 'it,'" she tells him, her voice trembling.

"What do you mean?"

"You are not an 'it,'" she repeats. "You are not a problem I have to deal with, or a mess, or a t-thing. Don't say it like that."

"That's not the issue here, Ziva."

"_Yes, it is,_" she insists. "Because I need you to understand that I'm not _handling _you like I would an assignment. I take you. All of you. And yes, part of you is damaged, but the other part of you is wonderfully whole, and I love you because you are _wonderful_ despite being damaged. I said the wrong thing. I am so sorry, Tony. I did not mean to hurt you. But I can't leave you because I think … I would miss having you around me very much."

He stares mutely at her until his eyes start to water just a little, and then he brushes furiously at his face and leans against the bathroom counter with self-deprecating laugh. "You gotta stop doing this to me."

"I can't," she replies, knowing that he means her tendency to make him cry. She steps into the bathroom so that she can place both her hands on his chest. "Not until you accept that you did not _deserve _to be bullied by your classmates or neglected by your father or left by Wendy or … anything that you have been carrying around all these years. Not until you understand that you are not a mess."

He averts his gaze and sticks with the change in topic. "Sometimes I just feel it…"

She nods, biting back her own tears. "And that's why I am here. To tell you otherwise." She sniffles. "I'm can't leave, DiNozzo. Not unless you kick me out by my butt."

His laugh comes out as a dry sob. "I'm kinda hoping you'd come back even then."

"You just have to ask."

He blinks furiously, and she waits as he takes a deep breath and turns back to her. "So all I have to do is ask?"

"Yes. Always."

"I'm not gonna forget you said that."

"I hope you don't."

He studies her for a long moment before nodding weakly and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I suppose it'd be too much to ask if you wanna hop in the shower with me?"

She laughs shakily. "Not that kind of question, Tony."

Perhaps the humour is needed, though, because the arms he wraps around her to draw her to him now are soft, and his body is relaxed. "Just had to try," he whispers into her hair.

She nuzzles her face into the curve of his neck, glad for this chance to work things out with him. "Someday soon," she promises.

xoxo

The journey from Minnesota through Wisconsin and into Michigan takes roughly eight hours, so they stop in Wisconsin for lunch. Later, he takes them across the 94-foot-long Smith Rapids Covered Bridge in the Chequamegon National Forest; he parks on the shoulder of the road just beyond the bridge, and she takes the opportunity to climb out of the RV and peer through the diamond-shape-latticed structure out at the Flambeau River. She is not disappointed by the picturesque scene which greets her eyes.

A switch in time zones robs them of an hour as they drive into Michigan, so that at the RV park in Marquette, they have to hurry a little with laundry and cleaning in order to make it in time for the dinner reservations that he made. She manages to wheedle him into telling her that the establishment serves Cajun Creole cuisine, but gets little out of him otherwise.

Eyebrows raised, she asks him why he's looking for Cajun food in Michigan, of all places; he sheepishly admits to being disappointed over having given New Orleans a miss. She laughs and picks up their laundry hampers, and he gives his a self-conscious look, but says nothing. She thinks that may be considered progress. Maybe he is starting to accept the inherent domesticity of their arrangement—of travelling, sightseeing, and eating together, and of sleeping in the same bed.

xoxo

Yet it is this same domesticity that causes her to question, as they take a walk along the waterfront of the town after dinner, where they are headed after the road trip ends. So she tugs on his arm under the pretence of wanting to look out across the lake and gets him to stop; and then, her face turned away from him because some questions she just isn't brave enough to ask while looking at him, seeks his opinion.

"Tony, where are we going with this?"

It is her expectancy of the re-emergence of his insecurities that keeps her hand tightly wound around his, but to her surprise, all he does is sigh and tug her closer. Moving to stand behind her, he rests his hand on her hip as she leans against him.

"I've been wondering that myself," he confesses.

"The road trip is ending soon, but I do not know what we should … how we should…"

"Be, after this?"

She chuckles lightly. "That sounds very dramatic."

He wraps both arms around her—the first time he has actually held her from behind, and she finds that this is something she could really get used to. "I don't think there's a non-dramatic way of phrasing it."

"So how should we be?"

There is a pause before he speaks. "I don't know. On the one hand, I'd like things to be the way they are now."

"With us staying together?"

"Yeah. Living together."

"On the other hand?"

"Maybe that's moving too fast. Even by our standards."

She lets out a hum. "Do you think we'd be moving too fast?"

"I don't wanna blow this."

"Maybe we will not."

"You're the one who wanted to take it slow," he chastises teasingly.

"I did," she admits. "But like I said this morning … I would miss very much having you around me."

"I thought I was the clingy one." She feels, rather than sees, his puzzled frown. "So what changed your mind?"

"I have not changed my mind … sometimes I need my own space, Tony. Time to think, to take a step back, to do my own things. But I like knowing that …you'd be in the next room, and I could just call to you, and you'd be here…" she trails off uncertainly, biting her lip because that is so sickly sweet she can't believe she's just said it.

"Move into the next-door apartment," he offers jokingly, and she laughs.

"I do not think your neighbours would appreciate my asking them to move out just so I can be in the room next to yours."

"So, I guess … that just leaves two options."

"Living together, or not."

"Yeah."

She runs her fingers lightly over the back of his right hand, and his muscles twitch. "Maybe there is a third option."

"What's that?"

"Some days at your apartment, some days at mine. And some days in our respective a-apartments."

"Can you deal with that?" he asks, and she knows he's noticed her hesitation. She breathes out slowly.

"We have to try. We must not be spending all our time around each other, Tony. That's not healthy."

"Hmm." He kisses the top of her head. "Okay."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I'm not happy, but … maybe you're right."

She finally tilts back her head to look up at him. "I want you to know that living together eventually is not out of the question."

"I know, Ziva." He presses a quick kiss to her lips, and she straightens her head, reassured.

When he tightens his arms around her, though, she wonders why she's already starting to miss him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Built over the South Fork of the Flambeau River in Price County, Wisconsin, the **_**Smith Rapids Covered Bridge **_**is the state's only glue-laminated Town Lattice covered bridge. Town Lattice is a diamond-shaped truss lattice pattern. I'm fairly certain that the picturesqueness of the scenery that you can see from the bridge depends on the season, but for literary purposes, it was nice ^^ Website: www(dot)pricecountywi(dot)net(slash)attractions/historical-and-scenic-sites/smith-rapids-covered-bridge**

**I find it kinda fun to write about how long it takes to cross a state, because the eight hours it takes to get from Minnesota to Michigan via Wisconsin is probably just a little less than the time it takes to travel the entire length of the North-South Highway in Malaysia :D we're tiny. _Tinyyyy, _I tell you!**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	22. Day TwentyFive

**Day Twenty-Five**

"Another problem," she says as they head towards China, Michigan, in the wee hours of the morning for their first stop of the day.

"Gibbs?" he asks.

"Gibbs," she confirms. "And maybe Abby and McGee as well."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about them, too."

She spares a second to ponder the significance of their apparently in-sync thoughts, and then continues, "Should we tell them?"

"I don't know. I'm not looking forward to this conversation with Gibbs."

"You think he will know?"

"He's _Gibbs. _He was probably expecting it and is waiting back in DC to chop us up with a meat cleaver."

She wrinkles her nose at the imagery. "If he was expecting it, then he can hardly blame us. He could just have not approved the comp time."

"True." He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm thinking we should talk to him."

"Yes?"

"Well, if we don't, we're gonna have to sneak around, and I don't wanna sneak around." He looks at her. "Are you up for it?"

"Up for talking to Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

She bites her lip and makes the commitment. "Yes. I am."

He gives her a small smile. "So we're really doing this?"

"What?"

"This … telling the world about us … thing."

"We are only telling Gibbs," she decides. "But I am not keeping this a secret. Abby and McGee can find out in their own time."

"Still. Imagine if McGee walked in on us kissing."

She laughs. "He would not be surprised. Thom E. Gemcity has been predicting this for a long time, yes?"

"Yeah. Maybe Probie deserves more credit than he gets."

"Credit for what?"

"For being perceptive."

"Mm." She taps her lip with her finger. "I do not know. If we had gotten together when McGee predicted … I do not know where we'd be now. Perhaps we would already have broken up."

"R-really?" he asks hesitantly.

"We were different people back then." She gives him a reassuring smile. "But we are stronger people now. More … united, yes?"

He breathes out carefully. "Yeah. So, just as long as we get this chance," he says, but she hears the questioning lilt in his voice.

"Yes," she agrees. "Just as long as we _take_ this chance."

xoxo

"Hey, you know what we haven't done in a while?"

"What?" she asks rather absent-mindedly, her gaze trained on the trees lining the roadside.

"Secrets Nights."

She turns to look at him in surprise. "You want to do Secrets Night?"

"Well, Secrets Afternoon, since it's that right now."

She frowns at the road ahead of them in puzzlement. "We have been sharing a lot lately, have we not?"

"Eh, those are the serious and heavy stuff. I was thinkin' something light."

"_Ohhh, _fun secrets." She thinks about it and then looks at him, grinning. "I like it on top."

"I already know that."

"_How?_"

"Remember our little undercover assignment as married assassins all those years ago, back when you and I were still young?"

"I am still young now. And you _remember_ that?"

"Hey, it's important information! And don't say it like I'm no longer young."

She simply stares at him.

"Okay, I'm no longer young," he admits grumpily. "But the fact that you like it on top is no longer a secret. So pick a new one."

She blows air out through her lips. "Fine. I … prefer sour foods to sweet foods."

"Really? 'Cause you have a penchant for digging into sweet foods."

"Well, I do like sweet foods. I just like sour foods more."

"Oh."

"Your turn."

His fingers tap a rhythm against the steering wheel as he thinks about it. "I worked a part-time job while at college."

"That is fairly normal, yes? I do not think it counts as a secret."

"Dressed in a chicken suit."

She splutters. "What?"

"Jumping around and clucking sounds and all. The kids loved me. As a chicken."

"You? In a chicken suit?" She tries to hide her laughter behind her hand, but he mock-glares at her.

"I needed the money! And by the way, if you tell McGee, _I will kill you._"

"Oh no, Tony." She shook her head, trying hard not to grin. "You are in no position to threaten an ex-assassin. However, as a measure of good faith, I will not tell McGee."

"Thanks."

"I do not make the same promises with Abby."

"Hey!"

"Or Gibbs. Ooh! Do you think Gibbs would like to know?"

"I think he knows already; he must've read my dossier before he hired me."

"I have read your dossier before, too. It is written in there that you had a part-time job, but it does not state anything about chicken suits and clucking sounds."

"You're gonna hold this over my head forever, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes."

He groans. "I should not have told you."

She snickers. "Well, I have some embarrassing secrets of my own. Perhaps if you stick around long enough, I will tell you them."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"I have already shared my secret."

"How 'bout Round Number Two…"

Laughing, she pretends to consider it before finally telling him another (non-embarrassing) secret.

xoxo

"Oh, my god. I could _live _in here," he practically squeals as he tears into the Grand Christmas Room of the Candy Cane Christmas Shoppe.

Her lips twitching, she follows him in and watches as he spins in circles like a dog chasing its own tail. He cackles madly and finally picks a corner of the room to start with. Two steps later, he freezes and looks back, turning his puppy-dog eyes on her so that she can't resist taking his outstretched hand and being led into his enthusiasm.

"You are being like Abby," she teases, and his puppy-dog eyes dance.

"Not really. I'm only ever excited about Christmas when it's not Christmas."

"Why?"

"Because the decorations are _awesome. _C'mon, look at this, nutcrackers!"

She laughs. "Yes. Very nice."

He gives another pleased cackle, but sobers a bit when she asks her next question, "Why do you not like Christmas at Christmas, then?"

"It's not that I _don't like _it; I'm just indifferent to it." He shrugs. "Never really had cause for celebration."

She must've furrowed her eyebrows in sympathy, because he lifts a warning finger. "Don't feel sorry for me. As much as I'd like to be with family on Christmas Day, celebrating Christmas with my dad would probably be like having a root canal without the anaesthesia. And then being force-fed the whatever-things-they-removed. I'd rather just stay home and brood … or go to Leyla's, because she makes some mean lamb."

"Leyla's?" she asks, intrigued.

"Yeah. That's where I went last Christmas." He tilts his head with a frown. "Where were you, anyway?"

"In the hospital. With Lieutenant Reynolds and her baby, yes? Before her parents arrived."

"Huh. How'd that go?"

"She is a lot less annoying when there are no Russian mercenaries after her." She smiles. "And the baby was very sweet."

He studies her, his eyes twinkling. "Look at you, all smitten over the baby."

She laughs and smacks his arm lightly. "Just continue looking at your Christmas decorations."

"Not a problem." With another cackle, he drags her off to the nearest Christmas tree.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Candy Cane Christmas Shoppe **_**in Archbold, Ohio, is a year-round Christmas shop with seven rooms filled with various Christmas trees, ornaments, and decorations. It also sells ornaments and collectibles for other occasions, and has a tea room that sells beverages, fudge, and ice-cream. Website: www(dot)candycanechristmas(dot)com/index(dot)html**

**A/N #2:**

**Couple of editing errors in the previous chapter :D Whoops. Fixed by now ... I hope :S**

**Thank you for reading this chapter; I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	23. Day TwentySix

**The Scars of Somalia comes up today! Is that a collective groan I hear? Yes, I know it is an oft-done topic. But this is almost three years after the fact, and some things are different. So I hope you enjoy reading my take on it, anyway.**

**The story continues in the next chapter.**

**-So_ph_**

**P.S. Court, I hope you read this, but I think you turned off your PM feature by accident.**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-Six<strong>

They aren't a couple prone to silliness, so when he wakes her up by tickling her sides and then forsaking that in favour of nuzzling his nose into her stomach, she is too taken aback to remember not to squirm too much.

And because she forgets not to squirm too much, her shirt rides up just enough for him to see it. He freezes moments later, his eyes wide and fixed so firmly on her skin that's inches from his face that she's surprised his eyes aren't crossing.

She sighs and resigns herself to the inevitability that he would've found out about the scars eventually, anyway. Silently berating herself for not being more careful, she watches as he brushes a hand lightly across the very long, slightly red line of puckered skin running across her stomach just above her navel.

"Does it hurt?" he asks hoarsely. His eyes are glazed over when he looks up at her.

She shakes her head and strokes the side of his face. "They have stopped hurting for a long time."

His gaze returns to the scar, and his voice trembles when he asks, "There are more?"

"Yes." His jaw tenses, and she hastens to reassure him, "Not many. Most have faded. This is the most … obvious."

He hesitates. "Are they from Somalia?"

"Yes," she replies quietly.

He breathes out painfully and buries his face into her stomach. "I'm so sorry, Ziva. I'm so sorry," he repeats like a mantra, his voice broken.

She keeps on stroking his face, and her heart seizes because she never wanted him to find out; not like this, and not _ever._ She feels tears blurring her eyes, but she blinks them away quickly. She's had almost three years to get used to her being marred for life. He's had almost three minutes.

She thinks she feels him kiss her stomach before he looks up again, his eyes not quite dry. He opens his mouth, she supposes to apologize again, but she shakes her head. "Don't. It's not your fault."

He swallows. "I killed Rivkin."

"Yes. And you also saved me."

"Ziva, it's not a noble thing. I … I mean, Gibbs and McGee were there too, and I just sat there…. What the hell did I do?"

She sits up and pulls herself as close to him as possible, wrapping her arms around him and pressing his face into her neck, and her breath catches at the way he clings to her because she is so awfully close to crying, herself.

She takes a deep breath and bravely continues, "You were the catalyst for that which would turn into a rescue mission for me, yes? Abby told me. Without you … I would have died."

His body heaves with something she might've considered laughter if it weren't for the dampness on her skin that accompanied it. "Ziva, _I killed Rivkin. _I sent you back to Israel, and I … I…"

"You did not send me to Somalia," she tells him as firmly as she can, swallowing back her own tears. "My father did, and I agreed to do it of my own free will. You did not force me to lose Malachi. You did not force me to break into a terrorist camp of t-thirty men alone. _This is not your fault, Tony._"

He is silent against her for a long time, until she starts to wonder what's running through his head. "How do you cope with this?" he finally whispers.

She breathes out, her shoulders sagging because he had to ask the one question she couldn't answer. "I don't know," she tells him hesitantly. "I just do. I just try not to think about it, because … I need to live my life now."

"I tried that," he confesses shakily. "I thought you were back now, all was good … but sometimes, I just … I don't ever know how to make this up to you."

"You have _nothing_ to make up to me. And even if you did … you already have, hmm? Look at me now. I am perfectly well and happy."

"Well" is a relative word, as she is aware; she suspects he is, too, because his hand finds her scar under her top. She screws her eyes shut and bites back the humiliation that runs through her. Three years later, she has learnt much better to cope with the more or less permanent indicators of her captivity. She thinks this may always be present, though: The way she feels when others pay particular attention to her scars, as if that is all they can see in the moment. She has long ago learnt to ignore these grotesque marks, but she wishes everyone else could, too.

Sighing, she gently pulls his hand away, mindful of the fact that he is just reeling from the freshness of it all. "Maybe someday you will be able to do this without my feeling self-conscious," she begins, "but not right now. _We_ are new, and … not many people have seen these scars, and…"

He nods as she trails off uncertainly, and then turns his hand so that he can fit his palm against hers. "Okay," he says, and she is infinitely grateful that there is no judgement in the single word he utters.

And then he curls his fingers around hers in a silent promise of their unity, so she kisses him and hugs him close.

xoxo

He puts up very little resistance when she begs him at lunchtime to take her for a look around the Ohio State University campus. When he nods instead with a rather sad smile, she knows the events of the morning still haunt him. She says nothing, knowing that the topic will come up again when he needs to talk about it.

It soothes her, though, to see him get a little excited as they turn onto Ohio's Highway 315 and head towards the Columbus campus. "I haven't been back since I graduated," he informs her. "Y'know, it's probably changed a lot by now. We'd probably get lost in there or something."

"Well, as long as we find our way out in the end."

"Why are you so interested in seeing OSU?"

"I would like to know about where you studied."

"Hmm." He pauses, and then breaks into song without warning. "_Fight the team a-cross-the-field, show them Ohio's hereee…_"

"What's that?" she asks, laughing in surprise.

He grins at her. "Fight song. _Across the Field. _More popular at football games, but I've sung it at basketball games before."

"Catchy melody."

"Well, it's a fight song. If it weren't catchy, then everyone would be too depressed to play."

He slows down the RV when they enter the campus and points at the river running alongside the road. "Okay, this big thing is the Olentangy River, if I don't remember wrongly. See those two towers to its right, _faaar_ ahead of us? Lincoln Tower and Morrill Tower: They're dorms. And farther up ahead—you can see a bit of it if you look in between the towers—the Ohio Stadium. That's where all the football games are played. Yet up ahead is St. John Arena, where I played basketball. You can't see it yet."

She peers with interest at the buildings. "What does the stadium look like?"

"Well, it looks like a … stadium. It's horseshoe-shaped, and the outside is really awesome, especially when it's lighted up at night. There's also a rotunda at the far end with a dome on top, and the dome has … flower patterns. Y'know, I don't know how to describe it, but it's pretty incredible architecture. And the inside is seating and a football field, of course … sometime while I was here—I think it was my junior or senior year—they expanded the stadium. It could seat over ninety thousand."

She stares at him wide-eyed.

"I'm not kidding!" he insists. "I think they've expanded it even more now. Doubt we can go in, so I can't show you the inside, but I guess you'd like to look at the dome?"

She nods and chuckles at the rather adorable way in which he's phrased the question.

"_Ooh, _and you can see St. John Arena from the rotunda. It's practically across the street. That one has a seating capacity of um … thirteen thousand, I think. Last I heard."

"Can we go in?"

"Probably. But if we can't, I know some buddies who still work here as coaches." His eyes dance as he looks at her. "Alright, m'lady, prepare to be _wowed _by a trip into Anthony DiNozzo's past."

xoxo

"Truth," he says over dinner. "What d'you think of OSU?"

"I only saw part of it," she answers, thinking about the buildings he and his "college buddy" Sean had shown her around. "But I like the part I saw."

"I didn't know they didn't play in St. John Arena anymore. But that new centre is _huge_."

"Jealous, Tony?" she teases.

He shrugs. "I wonder what I would've been like if I could've gone pro."

"I do not think it makes a difference which arena you played in."

"I know." He doesn't elaborate, and she watches him for a few minutes before breaking the silence.

"Tony."

"Mmm?"

"You know I am proud of you, yes?"

Surprise flits across his eyes, and the corners of his lips turn upwards a tiny bit. "You are? Why?"

"It is just a feeling." She pauses, uncertain about how to continue. "I do not know. I just feel pride when I look at you."

"Huh. Sure it's not because you're proud of yourself for being more accomplished than me?"

She makes a face at him. "I simply mean to say that the man you are now is … someone I have no regret in knowing."

His smile widens a fraction, but she sees sadness cloud his eyes. "Well, that's good to know."

She strokes his hand lightly before returning to her dinner, dissatisfied that she cannot cheer him up more after the emotionally draining day. She feels his eyes on her for a long time.

"Ziva?" he finally speaks up quietly.

She looks up at him with a smile. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he whispers, and his voice cracks just a little.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Ohio State University **_**is (according to the website) one of the U.S.' top twenty national public universities. Established in 1870, it has fourteen colleges and an estimated 12, 000 courses offered. Its main campus is in Columbus, Ohio, which is also where the Ohio Stadium, the fourth largest on-campus facility in the nation, is. OSU sports teams and players, no matter the sport, are often referred to as **_**Buckeyes. **_**OSU Website: www(dot)osu(dot)edu**

**Ohio State Buckeyes Website: www(dot)ohiostatebuckeyes(dot)com**

**The cheers and fight songs of OSU can be found here: www(dot)sgsosu(dot)net**

**The new arena for basketball players is the 770, 000-square-foot _Schottenstein Centre, _which also caters to ice-hockey players, and concerts.**

**A million thank yous to **_**gobuckeyes **_**for your invaluable help with the insider knowledge on OSU! The information you kindly provided gave me a very good framework from which to write :)**

**Hope you enjoyed reading, everyone! Thank you, and please leave a review on your way out.**

**-_Soph_**


	24. Day TwentySeven

**Day Twenty-Seven**

He wakes her up with his hand roaming her stomach again, albeit much more gently than the day before, and she sighs as the last vestiges of a pleasant dream fade away.

"Tony," she mumbles, pressing down lightly on his hand to stop his movements. "Have you made it your personal mission to look for my scar every day?"

"No," he answers guiltily. "I just … want us to be normal."

She opens one eye to look at him, trying not to get irritated. "How do you mean?"

He hesitates. "I wanna be able to … touch you, without … y'know."

"Without my scar?" she questions.

"No!" he yelps. "I mean, yes. No? Okay." He takes a deep breath. "I know that you're self-conscious, so I just figured … if I touched you often enough, you wouldn't have anything to worry about."

He frowns, as if trying to determine what's gone wrong with his phrasing, and she comes closer to laughing than she has in the past day. He opens his mouth again, but she presses a finger to his lips to stop him from digging a deeper hole for himself.

"You mean you are hoping I will eventually get less self-conscious," she interprets, and he nods. She bites her lip. "That will be hard."

"I know," he says, kissing her finger before curling his hand around hers and bringing it away, "but it's like—and maybe I have a selfish agenda, but … I want you to know that there's nothing to fear."

Her heart skips a painful beat; he knows her well, indeed, if he can read between the lines and work out that she _is _scared of what he thinks of her body now.

She feels as if he's still missing the bigger picture, though.

She breathes out slowly. "Tony, it is not just for myself that I am doing this. I am … wondering … about what kind of effect this would have on you."

"What do you mean?"

"Somalia is as personal an experience for you as it was for me, yes?" He opens his mouth, but she quickly continues, "In different ways. Before this, I had not thought about what it meant for you. But two weeks ago, when you said you were ashamed of yourself … I don't know if you were really talking about Somalia, but that is not a risk I want to take by showing you my scars. It hurt me to see you the way you were yesterday."

He averts his eyes and blinks several times before answering. "It's not like I've gone crazy and think I put you on the Damocles or something, y'know. Just … I keep wondering, '_What if I hadn't shot Michael Rivkin?_'I mean, if I hadn't shot him, then we wouldn't have been sent to Israel and you would've stayed here, safe and not in Somalia … and then I took so long to find you, and I didn't even know you were alive. I failed, in every way, to protect you."

"Tony … if you hadn't shot Michael, then there is no saying where I would be now. I could be back in Israel; I could still be being sent on assignments. The liaison position between NCIS and Mossad could have been terminated." She strokes his face, much like she had yesterday. "The truth of the matter is simply that you tried to protect me, and things went wrong. Michael did the wrong thing. You chose the wrong move. My father made the wrong request. Gibbs gave the wrong answer. Malachi listened to the wrong orders. And I … I made all the wrong choices. But take any of that away, and … maybe Somalia would not have happened.

"It happened," she says, and it isn't until then that she realizes the truth of what she's said. "And I am _so _sorry you had to make the wrong move f-for me. If I could take away all of your guilt, I would in a heartbeat. Believe me, Tony. But it happened, and there is no changing that. There is also no changing that I am back now. You _saved _me. I am more than alive; I am _living._ Let go of the past, _please,_ Tony. I am safe now."

He makes a sound very much like a sniffle and buries his face in her hair, silent as he holds her. So still is he for so long that even the steady pattern of his harsh breathing almost lulls her to sleep again, and she nearly misses his barely whispered words.

"I'm gonna love you with all my heart if it's the last thing I do, Ziva David."

She holds his words dear because she knows the effort it takes him to say them.

xoxo

"So, what did you think of the museum?" she asks him as they exit the Photo Antiquities Museum of Photographic History.

"I liked it," he announces, and she is glad to see a smile on his face. "Especially the Daguerreotype. It was pretty cool."

"I thought you might say that. Since when did you take such an interest in photography, anyway?"

"I have _no _idea. 'Though I don't really think you can say it's an interest; I only do it when we're sightseeing."

She studies him appraisingly. "You do like taking them, yes?"

"Yeah."

"I think you should do it more often."

"Really?" he asks, intrigued.

"It seems to make you happy."

"Mmm." He doesn't say anything more than that, but she can tell that he is starting to consider the idea.

xoxo

"Okay, these are _kickass,_" he murmurs in near reverence as he takes in the metal sculpture before him of a mermaid.

She nods in agreement. They are in the Bare Metal Gallery, in which are displayed wood and metal sculptures; she shifts across the room to study an eagle made of bronzed railroad spikes.

He comes up behind her. "Ever wonder what an artist's life is like?"

She laughs. "Not really. But they are said to live alone and spend all their time working on art, yes?"

"Ah, yes, the stereotypical artist." He circles the eagle slowly. "Lonely. Troubled. Just this side of crazy."

"Do you think that is true?"

He shrugs. "Not my place to judge. But I figure not every artist can be like that."

"Hmm." She pauses. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. I mean, I know Tiny Tim's not a paint-and-paper artist and all, but do you think he's lonely?"

"Worried about him, Tony?"

He makes a face in response to her tone. "He and Abby make a good team. They should get back together."

"They will if it is meant to be."

"Like us?" he asks impishly, and she chuckles.

"No. We had to fight harder than most people for it. That said, maybe it is what makes us … unique."

"'Unique,'" he repeats slowly, as if trying to determine how he feels about it. Finally, he grins. "I like it."

xoxo

On some days, she thinks that their dealing with his inner demons together is as helpful to her as it is to him.

Today is one of these days, because even though her cheeks still burn when he asks if he can see her scar again, she is less reticent about lifting her shirt and allowing him to touch it. He does run his hand over and over it tirelessly, though, and that makes her wonder if he's simply fascinated by it or trying to make it blend in with the rest of her.

He is not the first person to have seen those scars.

There were her doctors, and then Ducky, and then Ray.

They are all different, though. With her doctors, she was never really sure if it was more pain or shame, but at least she was only a patient who would eventually become nameless and faceless in the midst of the hundreds they treated each year. With Ducky, it was a little more personal, but he was Ducky, and he was calm and understanding, and he made her feel as if things would be okay no matter how they looked in that moment. He had eventually turned out to be right.

Ray was the first romantic relationship she had had after Somalia, and she is grateful to him for the gentleness with which he treated her body, if not her heart. She still remembers the complete shock on his face the first time he saw her few scars, and the way she almost forced him to overlook them: She had told him that he was to either accept them or watch her walk out the door, because she was sick of having people stare at her like a three-headed monster from Greek mythology. He had accepted them without question. Months later, with grief and tears and under no small amount of alcohol, she had told him as little of her story as she had thought she could get away with.

Showing Tony these scars is still like starting all over again, nonetheless. It means questioning if he still remembers the way she had once looked, flawed but beautiful; it means wondering if he compares who she is now to who she had been before. And more than anything, it means a spotlight on the torture she had borne with and the ugliness they had _both _seen, and for a terrifying moment she thinks he may be able to read those three months of agony right off her stomach like a book.

What if their stories have been interwoven far too much for such exposure to ever be distinguishable from the memory of their pain?

She sees his tears come and go, and wonders what's running through his head; she doesn't ask him, though, because she knows he is attempting to deal with everything just as she is. So she just lets him touch her and run his hand over and over her scar, until the frown lines on his forehead disappear and his hand slows to a stop and a tiny smile curls the corners of his pale lips, and he chokes back a sob and meets her eyes and says, "Now I know you a little better."

She does not notice until she done kissing him that he had kept his hand on her body the entire time, and she had not felt a single bit of humiliation.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Photo Antiquities Museum of Photographic History **_**in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, is a museum dedicated to the preservation and presentation of the history of photography. Its collection includes images and cameras from the earliest days of photography to present-day digital photography. Website: www(dot)photoantiquities(dot)org/index(dot)php**

**The **_**Daguerreotype c. 1839 **_**is, according to the Photo Antiquities website, the first commercially viable photographic image produced onto a silver-coated copper plate.**

**The **_**Bare Metal Gallery and Boutique **_**is a gallery exhibiting metal and wooden sculptures, as well as pottery and other artistic creations. The boutique sells scarves, jewellery, fabric handbags, and other artwork. Website: www(dot)baremetalgallery(dot)com/boutique(dot)html**

**In case you're wondering whether the places they go to are just fillers in my story ... I started wondering that a long time ago, _lol. _Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	25. Day TwentyEight

**Day Twenty-Eight**

The previous night had been spent in New York, as they had to pass through it to get to Vermont.

She wakes up feeling slightly anxious, though, because it is the first time she will go to Vermont since … Ray. The feeling of nervousness only increases as they finish breakfast and hit the road for the four-hour journey into Vermont, and she knows he notices because he gives her a sideways glance more than once.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, and she gives him a brittle smile.

"Fine."

"Ray still a taboo topic?"

She pauses. "Not since that night in Minnesota."

"Right. Then I'll ask again: Are you okay?"

She sighs. "No. I am … nervous. My memories of Vermont are not good ones."

"Really?" he asks in surprise.

"I had fun with him here, but as they say, bad memories cloud everything."

She wonders how to elaborate, but before she can say anything, he frowns and asks his next question, "Who says that?"

"I don't know. People. It is true … all I can think of now is that Ray lied to me."

"Well, can you think of the fact that you're about to go there with me?"

She glares at him defensively. "You know, you could just have pretended not to see that I was nervous and not asked the question; then we wouldn't be having this conversation and you would not be sounding so offended."

He breathes out and says in a more sombre tone, "You said you were ready, Ziva."

"I thought I was. I thought I was ready to face my memories and deal with having been lied to, but I did not expect that I would be _nervous _about going to Vermont. And you wanted to visit Vermont, Tony; who was I to say no?"

His face hardened. "I wouldn't have forced you, _just _like I didn't force you to go to Florida. I wanted to visit Florida too, y'know, but I thought it wouldn't be good for you so I didn't plan it into the trip. Damnit, Ziva! You don't get to use me as an excuse for going to Vermont when you don't want to."

She swallows, suddenly feeling guilty because she hadn't known that about Florida. "That is not what I mean, Tony."

"Sure sounds like it."

"I mean, I'm not going to Vermont out of some perverse wish to punish myself. I _am _going for you—but you are the reason, Tony, not the excuse," she hurriedly finishes when she sees him open his mouth in anger. "I want to see you happy. Never mind my experiences here … by the end of the trip, I will have different experiences, yes?"

"How happy do you think I'd be with you being all miserable, honestly?"

She hadn't been feeling miserable, but strangely enough, his words make her tear up. So she reaches over and grabs his hand despite his resistance because she needs to feel his skin against hers for a moment. He ends up loosening his grip on the steering wheel enough so that she can hold his hand dangling loose in between them.

She blinks away her tears and continues, "I need to deal with this eventually, yes? And as much as I would wish to spare you the … drama, I don't know if I can do this without you."

"So I'm here for what, to make you feel better?" Despite with words, she notes with relief that his voice seems less angry.

"Yes," she answers honestly, tightening her grip on his hand when he tries to pull away. "Not because I am using you to get over Ray. _I am over Ray_. But I wish to be able to go to these places with you, Tony. Without being plagued by bad memories. And in order to do that … I need to … deal with things, first."

"And I make dealing with things easier," he finishes flatly.

She bites her lip. "I know I can do this alone. But … I guess I just need someone to support my decision."

The muscles in his jaw work as he thinks about that, his hand limp in hers and his eyes never leaving the road. Finally, he gives a curt nod. "Okay."

She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."

He doesn't say another word, but he does brush his thumb lightly against her skin before he returns his hand to the steering wheel, and she is infinitely grateful that he offers her this bit of support.

xoxo

Their first stop is the New England Maple Museum, and she finds that she may've overrated her worries because even though she'd visited another maple museum with Ray (as a pit stop on their way back from the ski retreat), the man does not enter her mind as much as she would have expected. It is a relief to her to know that despite having been very badly hurt, she is capable of healing and moving on. She had been telling the truth when she'd said she wished to visit these places with Tony; he is her proverbial true love—the one she has had the deepest feelings for the longest, and the one whom she is determined to make her last love if not her first or only—and she thinks that it would be her biggest regret in life if she were to let her bad memories with Ray restrict her relationship with Tony.

She does not know how to go about telling Tony that, though, and her heart pulses with the regret of having lost her temper with him—again—when she sees the poorly hidden uncertainty in his eyes which suggests that he is not wondering about how to make her feel better as much as he is whether she had loved Ray more than she loves him. He links her hand with hers and finishes the entire museum tour by her side in what she supposes is meant to be a reassuring manner, but she feels the occasional twitch in his hand and subsequent subtle tightening of his grip, as if he feels the need to remind himself that she is with him now.

Childish insecurities. She thinks it, and she knows he will not voice them because he thinks it, too. But with paradoxical maturity she understands now that they were never really grown up enough not to go through these insecurities, anyway. She has seen how life, and his own actions, chip away at him bit by bit, lending his childhood fears and adult worries a measure of strength that he tries so hard to keep under control by creating for himself the image of a capable, charismatic, put-together man. She is not insensible to who he is on the inside—she knows he is truly capable and charismatic, but perhaps more so than he knows it himself. And so she worries if he is now wondering whether he is enough when she is well-aware of the fact that he is already more than she could ever ask from him in this moment.

A fool she would be if she has read his thoughts wrongly.

Some things, though, she thinks to be worth the risk.

She sits him down in the RV after leaving the museum and tries to assure him of his importance in her life, but the incredulity on his face makes her want to retract her words and her presumption and naïveté in thinking that she might understand him despite his having kept silent. But he clings onto both of her hands to still her move to leave, and his eyes beg her to finish what she had been intending to say, so she settles down again and hesitantly continues. When she is done, a tiny smile touches his face, and he gathers her into his arms. That is all he does for the next five minutes, at the end of which he releases her with a lingering kiss on the lips and a breathy "Thanks," and it is all he says of the matter.

She supposes she will never find out what he had been thinking the entire time. But he seems calmer as their trip continues, and so feels she; and it makes her think that maybe her efforts have not gone to waste no matter their actual necessity.

xoxo

"Sock monkey," he says with interest, grabbing one of the toys nearest to him, and she scrunches up her nose.

"I do not understand why anyone would want a toy made out of a sock."

"It's a culture thing," he answers, waving a hand absent-mindedly. "This is one of those that even I can't explain."

"Like why honey would attract flies," she retorts with a smirk.

He makes a face at her. "Smartass. What are we doing in the Toys department, anyway?"

"I am looking for something to give Amira. We must bring some gifts back home, yes? After this we will have to look for gifts for the adults."

"So we're here to shop for gifts?" he asks in dismay.

"You can go elsewhere, as long as you do not leave the store," she replies, feeling tempted to laugh out loud at his expression. "I can shop for the gifts myself."

"Nah. I think I'll … look with you."

"Suit yourself." She jerks her head at the toy. "What do you think of the sock monkey, then?"

"For Amira?" He looks at it doubtfully. "I don't see her liking something like this. Maybe something squishier?"

She stares at him in amusement, her lips twitching. "'Squishier'?"

"Yeah, y'know … filled with more cotton."

Her loud chuckle causes several other customers to look their way. Lowering her voice, she says, "Okay. Let's look for something with more cotton, then."

xoxo

Laden with various packages, they return to the RV at three in the afternoon and start to make their way towards New Hampshire; as they leave Vermont, he casts her another sideways glance, and she beams at him.

"Much better than I expected," she tells him, and he grins a little.

"I totally kicked Ray's ass," he says with just a hint of self-satisfaction, and she laughs because _yes, he totally did._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**New England Maple Museum **_**hosts a collection of sugaring artefacts, from a block of wood with a sap-collecting gash made by American Indians, to the modern plastic pipeline. The maple museum contains murals, dioramas, and historical photos of the maple sugaring scene. It also holds live demonstrations of maple-syrup making. Website: www(dot)maplemuseum(dot)com**

**Tony and Ziva were shopping for gifts in the **_**Vermont Country Store, **_**which has lots of old-time and now hard-to-find goods :D in case you were wondering what's up with the sock monkey. By the way, I don't think I've ever seen a sock monkey before. Although we probably have _some _here.**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	26. Day TwentyNine

**Just a warning: From now on, we move into fluff territory :D (hopefully, though, not OOC fluff). I can't help it, the fluff bunnehs attacked meh! Also: I have finished writing all days of their trip. There's still an epilogue left to write (so that could be angsty, you never know), but including this chapter, there are only four more left of their trip. Y'know, just preparing you guys :D**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-Nine<strong>

"Daruma dolls," he mutters as he reads the plaque before an exhibit in the Mariposa Museum and World Culture Centre. "This is creepy. They're eyeless."

"Not all of them are," she points out, even though she finds the roundish, squat-shaped dolls rather strange, too.

"Yeah, apparently you paint the pupils in after you make a resolution and attain it."

"Is that what it says on the plaque?" She leans in to have a closer look.

"Yup. They're from Japan, and when you first get them, the eyes are blank. You make a resolution and paint in one pupil, and then when you achieve your goal, you paint in the other pupil."

She snorts. "That would be a good way to get _you_ to stick to your resolutions. You would not like having a single-eyed doll around."

"I don't like dolls—not even the inflatable ones. And you're one to talk. You don't even make resolutions."

"I do not need resolutions. I am satisfied with my life the way it is."

"Hmm. I consider that a compliment."

She scrunches up her nose and moves away from him to look at the next exhibit.

"No, seriously," he says, following her, "don't you ever want to make resolutions?"

"I do not see the point in making resolutions. If I want something done, I should just go out there and do it, yes?"

"Well, that's kinda the point of resolutions. To motivate you to get things done."

"I think it's unnecessary pressure instead. I've never had a problem with motivation."

He chuckles. "No, I guess not. Daruma dolls would be totally wasted on you."

She glances back at the dolls. "For you, on the other hand…"

"Hey! I don't have a problem with motivation," he protests, but she just shoots him a knowing look. He rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine. I do, a little bit. But just a little bit. Not enough to warrant a doll."

She laughs. "I am merely thinking about what to get you as a Christmas present."

"Oh, no. You're not getting me a doll," he says firmly. "Don't get me a doll!"

xoxo

He checks his watch as she exits the shooting range, and a look of incredulity comes over his face as he stares at her in disbelief. "_Two hours,_" he says. "You were really in there for two hours."

"I said I would be. And is that very strange?" She tucks her gun into her holster and plops down beside him onto the couch in the reception area.

"Well, yeah. I'm usually only in there for one hour. And who goes shooting for two hours on vacation, anyway? It's not like this is a hunting trip."

"I told you, I need to keep my skills sharp. We are going back to work soon, yes? And we're not going anywhere tonight, so I thought I might as well just practise my shooting here instead of spending extra time at the Navy Yard's shooting range."

He shakes his head. "Once an assassin, always an assassin."

She chuckles and pats his cheek. "I am merely preparing for the probability that I will need to save your butt at work because your shooting skills got rusty."

"My shooting skills haven't gotten rusty," he protests with a pout, but then leans into her and changes the topic. "Anyway, here's what I was thinking: I am going to make you dinner tonight."

"Really?" she asks with interest. "Is it steak?"

"No. I've been looking up recipes online while waiting for you."

"So what are we having?"

"Pasta," he announces triumphantly. She opens her mouth, but he hastily interrupts. "_Don't _make a joke about me being Italian and therefore only knowing how to boil pasta. Firstly, I make pancakes and, believe it or not, salads, too. Secondly, I've never made this kinda pasta before. So I have learnt something new, and you will be the first to experience my culinary prowess at making this."

She opens her mouth again to teasingly doubt him, but finds that she hasn't the heart to. So she simply smiles at him and says, "I can't wait."

"Of course, we'll need to buy the necessary ingredients first…" he trails off thoughtfully.

"I think we passed by several grocery stores on the way here, yes?" She stands up and holds out her hand. "Let's go look for what you need."

He takes her hand, but studies her suspiciously through narrowed eyes as he stands. "What?" she asks.

"You're being strangely supportive."

"Is that bad?"

"It's unnerving. It's like the calm before the storm, only this time it's the supportiveness before the teasing insults."

"What?" she repeats in puzzlement.

"Oh, c'mon. It's us, Ziva: This is the point where you usually start insulting me."

She stops short at the enlightenment and gapes at him. Finally, she clears her throat and rubs her thumb softly against his skin. "Not this time, Tony. This time, I'm thinking that you have a lot of sincerity at stake here, and I do not wish to ruin it. Unless you were pulling my leg when you said you wanted to make dinner for me, I will not insult you once throughout making and having dinner. I promise that."

The smile he hesitantly gives her seems almost shy. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Shall we go?"

"Yep." He tugs on her hand and leads them out of the shooting centre.

xoxo

"Here, take this and put it on the dinette table," he instructs, handing her a glass half-filled with water.

She takes it and does as he says, although bemused. She turns back to face him and is startled to find that he holds in his hand a single long-stemmed red rose.

"For you, m'lady," he says in a low, husky voice, and she feels a warm blush creep up her cheeks. She frantically searches her brain for _when_ he could've bought the flower, but draws a blank, so she settles for asking the first thing that pops into mind.

"Is that for the glass?"

His eyes twinkle with silent laughter. "No, it's for you. The glass is for you to put it in. I did say there'd be flowers on the table and all, didn't I?"

"Hmm. I had dismissed that as impractical in an RV."

"Impractical or not, I wasn't going to go back on my word." He holds the flower out further with both hands and does a slight bow. "Will you accept this rose?"

Laughing, she accepts the rose and gives him a kiss in return. "Thank you, Tony."

"Mmhmm." He steals another kiss, running his fingers along her cheek and through her hair. "RV's not the most romantic place, since we're both wearing T-shirts and jeans and there's no mood-lighting, but the rose will have to do. And now, m'lady, please be seated and allow me to serve you."

She is fairly certain her grin rivals that of the Cheshire Cat as she kisses him one more time before going to sit down in the dinette. He brings their plates of pasta over, setting hers before her with another small bow before sliding onto his bench with his own plate.

"Try it," he urges, and she can't help laughing because his childlike enthusiasm is in such contrast to the romantic side of him that she had seen just moments earlier.

She takes up some pasta with her fork and tastes it. She's surprised at the creamy blend of sweet and spicy flavours that explode in her mouth; astonishment floods her when she realizes that she's never known he could cook this well.

Chewing and swallowing, she tells him, "This isgood."

"Really?" he asks, his grin brightening. "Oh wait, I haven't tried mine yet. Just a sec."

She waits as he does so, and his grin turns brilliant. "I _am_ good," he says, sounding almost in awe of himself, and she chuckles.

"Do you have a secret talent for cooking that you are not telling me about, Tony?"

"Oh, trust me, I'd have rubbed it in your face if I knew I could cook like this. Maybe it's the recipe."

"Maybe it is, but it takes a good cook to follow the right instructions, yes?"

His grin becomes almost blinding. "Uhm … I guess so."

As they continue to eat, he prattles away about the ingredients he used and the cooking methods he employed for making this meal. Even though she'd been watching the entire process from the side-lines, she gladly allows him this moment of glory.

He is the cook, after all, and an impressively good one at that; she only feels a sense of pride over being the one who gets to find it out first.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Mariposa Museum and World Culture Centre **_**is a hands-on museum in Peterborough, New Hampshire. It contains artefacts from cultures all around the world, such as daruma dolls from Japan, a Barbie Doll inspired by the Ndebele people of South Africa, the **_**matryoshka **_**(wooden nesting doll) from Russia, and ostrich eggs that were used to carry water while travelling across the desert. Website: www(dot)mariposamuseum(dot)org/index(dot)html**

**And yes, daruma dolls really exist. According to the museum website, the dolls are modelled after a Buddhist monk named Bodhidharma, who sat in meditation for so long that he lost the use of his legs. The name of the dolls comes from the Sanskrit word "dharma," which means "duty."**

**Also, _yes, _I know I have issues with balancing the places they visit with stuff that is just plain Tiva ... haha. But I provide pretty descriptions in A/Ns to make up for it. Right? Right.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D thank you for reading!**

**-_Soph_**


	27. Days Thirty & ThirtyOne

**Just a bit of warning: I prattle quite a bit in the A/N at the bottom.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty<strong>

The thirtieth day of their road trip is a day of museum-visiting.

Rising at half past seven, he turns to her with the expression of an abandoned puppy and moans that they have only three-and-a-half days left to their road trip. She already knows that, but is starting to feel the reluctance of returning to normal life, too, so she just hugs him and tells him that they must celebrate having survived one month of each other when they get back to DC. He laughs and then kisses her almost desperately before getting out of bed for his morning shower. On impulse and against her better judgement, she strips and follows him into the bathroom, baring to him her body and her secrets.

They visit three museums that day: the Mark Twain House and Museum as well as the Lockwood-Mathews Mansion Museum in Connecticut, and Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York. The first details the life of Samuel Clemens and his family, and appeals to the bookworm in her; the second, with its portrayal of the Victorian Era in all its glory, captivates the side of her which loves art and beauty. It's the third, however, that brings out her pride in her culture, her people, and herself. As they walk the three floors of the museum, she explains to him in a soft voice what she knows of Jews and Judaism; the plaques beneath the exhibits can tell him more than she ever could, of course, but he listens to her like the most attentive pupil in the classroom.

Five past six o'clock in the evening finds them in the RV park. Outside, he gathers up the hose for washing the RV with, and inside, she gathers up their two hampers for the last load of laundry they will do while on the road. There is a strange sort of finality to it that tugs oddly at her heart; she wonders at that because even though their trip is ending, their life as a couple has just begun.

She thinks that it may be the relatively secluded nature of the road trip. Tour guides, new friends, and old college buddies notwithstanding, it has just been _them_. Separated from the team and for the most part, the demands of the real world, they are given the chance to connect with each other in a way that they have never before.

She chides herself for her thoughts. Connected or not, they are bound to have to face the real world eventually, and at least this trip has been so carefully planned that neither of them will be caught by surprise at its ending. So she just carries the hampers out of the RV and lets him know that she is headed to the laundry room. _Live in the moment, _she tells herself, as she had once been taught.

She is grateful for the spontaneous kiss he sneakily plants on her cheek when no neighbours are looking their way.

xoxo

**Day Thirty-One**

The thirty-first day finds them on the first ferry from Liberty State Park in New Jersey to Ellis Island. They spend some time walking through the exhibits in the Ellis Island Immigration Museum, and then they visit the History Centre, where he attempts to look for any DiNozzos who may've passed through the federal immigration station a century back. They find one—a twenty-year-old who arrived in 1909. He doubts that the individual has any relation to him, though.

At ten to eleven, they board the ferry to head to Liberty Island. She stands and gazes wide-eyed at the statue which, despite having been in the States for years, she has only seen pictures of; he stands and watches her instead, as if she is more fascinating than the Statue of Liberty. In the end, she grabs his arm and urges him to look at the gold-gilded torch. He laughs, slips his hand around her waist to draw her in, and then presses his chest against her back as he tells her about the copper statue. He turns out to be more knowledgeable than she'd expected; and she, more enthralled than she'd ever thought she would be.

xoxo

They go to New York City's Little Italy for a late lunch. _It's only fair, _she tells him, since he had accompanied her to the Museum of Jewish Heritage the day before. So they walk the streets of Little Italy after a meal of pizza, and she studies the colourful four-storey tenement flats with interest. They happen upon an establishment called Tony's Gift Shop; he groans in dismay when she teasingly asks him if he's started a business without her knowledge.

And then they lose themselves in the heart of the district, and all thoughts of teasing flee her mind because even in the midst of all the bright colours and joyous laughter, their conversation turns serious. Comforting him when he laments how little he knows about his culture and how far detached his whole family is from their Italian roots is easy. When he suddenly wonders if he should bring his own children to this place, though, she stares at him in mute surprise.

He notices her silence and laughs nervously, telling her that it's just wishful thinking. She hears the wanting in his voice, though—the longing that is not quite unlike her own. It shocks her, because while she has always known that he has a general wish for children, she has never heard that hopeful quality to his voice before.

Finding that he matches her in hopes and dreams makes her hesitate. She is not unaware that she is by nature a conflicted person; cautious yet driven, she dares to secretly picture a future with him where she does not dare to actually talk to him about it yet. They cannot go around in circles of "maybe" and "what if" forever, though, and she fears that this is the moment where they will have to sit down and have a proper conversation about where they are going with this relationship. So she swallows the lump in her throat and leans in, and whispers into his ear that she's scared.

He gazes at her indecipherably for a long moment until she considers retracting her words. She didn't mean to say that she fears the idea of marriage and children with him—far from it, certainly. She only means to say that she is not sure whether they are ready for such a discussion about such a matter. But that doesn't mean he has understood her unspoken words.

He searches her eyes and presses a finger to her lips when she tries to explain. Then he replaces his finger with _his _lips (their first real kiss in plain sight of more than half a dozen passers-by, as she notes with a racing heart), and softly tells her that he means no pressure—that they will talk when she thinks the time has come.

She has no idea _when _that would be, but never has she been gladder over the fact that he seems to have acquired some of their boss' telepathic powers.

xoxo

A much-enjoyed visit to Central Park later, they arrive at their last stop for the day: Madame Tussauds, the museum famous for its wax figures. He makes her take a picture of him with Derek Jeter, whom he claims to be team captain of the New York Yankees; she cares nothing about either the Mets or the Yankees, so she just accepts his word as true. She does take pictures (minus herself) of Barack Obama and Leonardo DiCaprio, though, until he informs her with great exasperation that part of the fun at Madame Tussauds is that she is supposed to be _in _the pictures with the figures. She then laughs and resigns herself to the fact that they will be taking turns to pose for the camera the rest of the way.

xoxo

Thoroughly exhausted by their day, she falls into bed willingly at the end of the night. He holds open his arms and she curls into his embrace; he buries his nose into her hair, and she swears that he falls asleep almost immediately. She fights sleep so that she can listen his soft breathing and feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her arm.

Somehow, it makes her think that the moment where she would welcome talk of marriage and family with him may come much sooner than she thinks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Mark Twain House and Museum **_**was the home of author Samuel L. Clemens (a.k.a. Mark Twain) from 1874 to 1891. Located in Hartford, Connecticut, it is where Clemens lived while writing some of his most important works—the **_**Adventures of Tom Sawyer, **_**and the **_**Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. **_**The 25-room house had design motifs from China, India, Japan, Turkey and Morocco, as well as the most modern innovations when it was designed in 1874 (including a burglar alarm system which ran on batteries). Website: www(dot)marktwainhouse(dot)org/index(dot)php**

**The **_**Lockwood-Mathews Mansion Museum **_**is a Second Empire (an architectural style incorporating "French" elements in vogue during the Second French Empire) country house built between 1864 and 1868. It has been a National Historic Landmark since 1971. Website: lockwoodmathewsmansion(dot)com**

**The **_**Museum of Jewish Heritage **_**is a living memorial that celebrates the lives and achievements of those who perished in the Holocaust. Through several unique and award-winning exhibitions, the museum presents multiple perspectives on the Jewish life and culture in the 20****th**** and 21****st**** century—before, during, and after the Holocaust. Website: www(dot)mjhnyc(dot)org/findex(dot)html**

**The **_**Statue of Liberty National Monument, Ellis Island and Liberty Island **_**is a national monument that sits in between New York and New Jersey. Through January 1, 1982 and November 1954, Ellis Island served as an immigration station for those who wished to enter the U.S. And Liberty Island, originally named Bedloe's Island, was home to an 11-point star-shaped fort known as Fort Wood which was built to aid in the protection of New York Harbour. On February 22, 1877, the U.S. Congress accepted the Statue of Liberty as a gift from the people of France. After years on fund-raising, construction, and assembling, the statue was formally unveiled on October 28, 1886. Website: www(dot)nps(dot)gov/stli/index(dot)htm**

_**Central Park **_**is a public park at the centre of the Manhattan borough in New York City. It is 843 acres (3.41 square kilometres) big, and has a zoo, several gardens, and several playgrounds, among other things. Website (yes, it apparently has one): www(dot)centralpark(dot)com**

_**Madame Tussauds New York **_**is a branch of the original wax museum in London, England. It is home to wax figures of political leaders like Barack Obama, Hollywood stars like Marilyn Monroe, pop stars like Madonna, and world leaders like Gandhi. It also has Cinema 4D (a theatre incorporating 3D technology with 4D special effects) and SCREAM (a live-action, actor-led scare maze). Website: www(dot)madametussauds(dot)com/NewYork/Default(dot)aspx**

**The New York Mets and the New York Yankees are profession baseball teams based in New York.**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	28. Day ThirtyTwo

**Okay, _this _chapter in particular is very, very fluffeh :D you have been warned!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-Two<strong>

"Last day," he groans without opening his eyes after he shuts off his alarm clock. She nuzzles his neck sleepily.

"We still have tomorrow."

"That doesn't count. Tomorrow's the last half-day."

His words make her snort hard enough to wake up properly. Rolling over onto her side, she props herself up on one elbow and runs her fingers gently over the contours of his face. "You are very obsessed with this countdown thing."

He strokes her hair. "Aren't you?"

She thinks about it, and then shakes her head. "Maybe if we focus too hard on the end, we forget what's in between."

He frowns. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Ziva?"

"I am—" she stops short in puzzlement. "What?"

"I don't know … you just sound so self-help-book-ish."

She smiles. "Would you prefer I be tragic and mourn the impending end to our road trip?"

"That would be nice."

She shakes her head again, the corners of her lips twitching. "It would, but then I would be so busy mourning that I would forget I just woke up with you."

"Ugh. Sappy, David," he teases. "So sappy."

She smacks his chest not too lightly. "It would not kill you to be that once in a while."

"Okay. Fine, fine," he answers, his body trembling with amusement. He runs his fingers through her hair and studies her with a fond expression. "_God,_ you look _beautiful _in the mornings, Ziva."

Despite the grin threatening to make its appearance, she tilts her head and narrows her eyes at him. "Is that your attempt at being sappy, or are you making fun of my bedhead?"

He pretends to be exasperated. "See, this is why I'm never sap—"

Her giggles cut him off, and she leans down to press an apologetic kiss to his lips. "Will this make up for it?" she asks, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, no," he replies, wiggling his eyebrows devilishly before flipping her onto her back and leaning over her. "You're gonna have to do _waaay _more than that."

xoxo

"High tea, Tony?" she says in surprise as he leads her into the courtyard of the Peacock Café at the Grounds for Sculpture, having secured them a table with a reservation she didn't know he'd made.

He grins. "Thought we'd be hungry after walking around looking at all those sculptures … um. And I don't know, I just thought this might be something you'd like."

She presses a kiss to his cheek. "I do like it. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Zi." He pulls out a chair. "Now have a seat, and I'll be right back with your tea."

She laughs and obligingly settles into the chair he has held out for her. "I feel like royalty."

He lifts a finger. "Never let it be said that Anthony DiNozzo does not know how to treat a lady."

He disappears and makes a reappearance ten minutes later with two plates, one of which he sets before her. Going around the table, he sits down on the opposite side.

"Dig in," he urges with the same enthusiastic tone he had used when encouraging her to try the dinner he had made for them, but she continues her bewildered perusal of him for a while longer.

"Why are you so kind to me?" she finally decides to ask him, and he freezes with a petit four halfway to his mouth.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I … I love it. It's just, I have not done anything particularly romantic or caring…"

He watches her silently as she trails off, and then abruptly scoops up her hand from across the table and kisses the back of it. "I don't know. Maybe just making up for lost time."

"Lost time?"

He shrugs and gives her a lopsided smile. "I don't know, Ziva. I just look at you and feel like I wanna do it. I don't really have a good reason for it."

She chuckles and accepts his answer. "Okay."

"And you _are _caring."

"Yes?"

"Yeah. Can't explain how I know that, either … I just know." He pauses and then winks at her. "And that is why we love you."

The corners of her lips twist into a faint smile as she remembers a conversation from more than a year back. "Thank you."

"You could work on the romantic, though," he adds teasingly.

She picks up her fork to wave it at him warningly, but she promises him with a smile on her lips, anyway. "I will try."

xoxo

She shudders and takes an involuntary step back when she turns and comes face to face with a creature with bulging eyes and three-inch fangs. Her partner's hands come up to rest protectively on her shoulders when she bumps into him.

"Got scared by a mermaid, Ziva?"

She stares at the fossilized mermaid in the Ripley's Believe It or Not! Odditorium. "That is _not _a mermaid."

He shrugs against her back. "Yeah, okay, admittedly not as pretty as the mermaids we usually see. But c'mon! Don't hurt her feelings."

She looks to check if he's gone crazy. He laughs.

"I'm just pulling your leg. But I do wonder why a ninja like yourself would be afraid of a mermaid."

"I do not like things I cannot kill."

"_Ohhh, _so we're back to the Supernatural discussion, are we?"

"Were we on it in the first place?"

"I'm still wondering about the Battleship North Carolina."

"Have you ever tried plunging a knife into a ghost, Tony?"

"No." He pauses and frowns. "Have _you?_"

"No. And I have a feeling I would not succeed. Which is precisely why I don't want to bump into one."

"Wow, you really believe in this sorta thing."

"Don't you?"

"Yeah … but I guess I don't really think about it. C'mon." He steers her away from the mermaid, and she swears she sees him almost stick out his tongue before he continues, "I'll keep you safe."

She nudges him in the ribs. "Don't make fun of me," she warns. "You are very killable."

"I just said I'd protect you!" he protests.

"You would protect me from a ghost?"

"With my heart, my soul, and all else that I have," he promises solemnly.

She laughs and thwacks his arm. "_Idiot._"

"Hey, this idiot made you smile," he points out, and she has to hide her blush because, of course, it's true.

He chuckles knowingly, kissing her temple before leading her over to another exhibit.

xoxo

"Last Secrets Night," he mentions as they settle down for the night, with his head on his pillow and her head on his shoulder.

"We have not even had that for a while."

"Well, there was the Secrets Afternoon the other day."

"The one with the chicken suit. I remember."

He groans. "Oh, I don't even get a break in return for protecting you from ghosts?"

She pretends to consider that. "Only for tonight."

He grunts. "I'll take what I can get. So, no chicken-suit talk tonight?"

She holds up three fingers. "Scout's honour."

"You seem to be making less Ziva-isms day by day," he tells her contemplatively.

She furrows her eyebrows. "_Ziva_-isms?"

"Yeah, y'know, those cute little English mistakes that only you can make."

She raises herself to look down at him in amusement. "You have a name for them?"

"It only seemed fitting when you were still making mistakes during your third year here."

She can't help but to laugh. "I cannot believe you _named my mistakes._"

"What? They were worthy of a name! I mean, my personal favourite is, 'Does a bear sit in the woods?' _Really, _Ziva?"

"But it does!"

"Well, I guess it does, but that's not the saying!" Chortling loudly, he tugs her down to lie on his chest. She lightly gives his side a disgruntled pinch; he yelps, but proceeds to play with her hair. "God, Ziva, don't ever change."

"You would like me to pinch you once more?"

He laughs and grabs her hand before she can do so. "_No,_ I meant with the Ziva-isms. I think I'm getting kinda attached to them."

"Mmm. Well, what if my English got better?"

His thumb strokes the inside of her wrist. "Okay, I guess I shouldn't be encouraging you to make mistakes. But at least now you know where I stand on this topic."

She rolls her eyes as she buries her face into his chest. "I will keep it in mind."

"Hey, Zi?"

"Yes?"

"C'mere."

She twists her neck awkwardly to meet his eyes. "What is—"

His lips on hers interrupt her sentence, and she feels him smile against her before he pulls back. "Nothing," he answers, and his eyes sparkle with impish delight. "I just wanted to kiss you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Grounds for Sculpture **_**is a 42-acre (170-square-metre) landscaped public sculpture park featuring over 250 contemporary sculptures. Founded in 1992 in Hamilton, New Jersey, its mission is to promote an understanding of and appreciation for contemporary sculpture for all people. The **_**Peacock Café **_**is one of the dining establishments at the **_**Grounds for Sculpture; **_**on Saturday, May 12, it will offer high tea in the Garden :D (and yes, I know I write about **_**very **_**random stuff). Website: www(dot)groundsforsculpture(dot)org/index(dot)html**

_**Ripley's **_**is less random … or more, depending on how you look at it, but anyway, there's one in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Inside the **_**Ripley's Odditorium **_**are bizarre or unbelievable genuine artefacts from around the world, including a shrunken human head, a roulette table made with over 14, 000 jellybeans, and the 75 pieces of metal found in the stomach of a seventeen-year-old girl who complained of stomach pains. Also: There really **_**is**_** a Fiji mermaid with fangs and bulging eyes. Website: www(dot)ripleys(dot)com(slash)atlanticcity**

**Thank you for reading; please leave a review on your way out!**

**-_Soph_**


	29. Day ThirtyThree

**Last day of the road trip! (Or last half-day, as Tony would say.) But there's still an epilogue and a sequel where Tony meets Aunt Nettie to go.**

**By the way, please excuse me if this chapter seems more shoddily edited than the others; I'm not feeling so well at the moment :/**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-Three<strong>

She awakens early out of habit. The alarm clock has not yet rung because their day starts later on this morning, so she is surprised to find that his eyes are already wide open. He says not a word as she turns onto her side and gives him a good morning hug; upon closer inspection, he appears so tired that she wonders if he's slept at all.

She smiles and gently kisses him, and the eyes he turns to her are so full of sad longing that it makes her throat constrict for a second. "What's the matter, Tony?"

He breathes out slowly in a manner that may've been a sigh. "Nothing."

"You look depressed."

"I think I may be."

"What are you depressed over?"

"Nothing."

She frowns worriedly. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Regress into silence. Don't regress."

For whatever reason, tears spring into his eyes at that. His arms tighten their grip around her waist. "You know I love you, Ziva."

"Yes," she answers, and gives him another kiss for emphasis. "I know."

"I hope … I hope you don't kill me then, if I tell you I'm getting scared again."

"Of our relationship?"

"No. Of the other thing."

She sighs as understanding comes to her. "Of our not working out?"

He swallows. "I wish I could tell you I'm over it already and ready to just—"

She shakes her head and presses another kiss to his lips. "I wish you had woken me up earlier."

His eyebrows pull together. "Why?"

"Because then I could have reassured you earlier that we will work out."

He averts his eyes. "I really hate doing this to you."

"I know." She dips her head. "It is okay, _mon amour._ We will figure it out, hmm? But first … maybe a promise."

His eyes come back to hers. "Okay."

"When we get to work tomorrow … we will go look for Gibbs, and we will tell him that we are together. Will that help?"

He nods, the frown lines on his face visibly easing. "Yeah. Probably not the headslaps we'll be getting, but y'know … it helps."

"Okay." She chuckles and holds up her pinkie finger. "Promise me, Tony."

He seals the deal with a determined nod and a little finger looped around hers; she snorts and allows herself to snuggle into him when he smilingly suggests spitting into their palms and shaking hands.

His worries temporarily assuaged, they spend the last waking up moments of their road trip in a great amount of laughter and lovemaking.

xoxo

At ten o'clock, they board a cruiser of the Cape May Whale Watcher's for a two-hour dolphin watch around Cape May. They learn about Victorian homes and the Cape May Lighthouse over breakfast; she gets excited over the pod of dolphins they come upon despite the fact that she's seen the animals multiple times since childhood. He teases her for her youthful carefreeness, but falls quiet when she insists he actually take the time to watch the dolphins. Later, he tells her about the Marine Mammal Programme that the U.S. Navy has running, where bottlenose dolphins are trained to hunt for sea mines. She doesn't believe him until he promises to show her proof when they return home.

At noon, they start the journey homeward. Lunch is had in a greasy diner off the I-95, much like they had done for their first meal on the road trip; she buys them each a smoothie to celebrate the end of their vacation.

Sensing the gravity of returning to their regular, work-filled routine, they grow progressively quieter as they approach DC. The little bubble of their idealistic, them-only world is burst; she thinks she feels herself age, and her responsibilities come back to rest on her shoulders, when they drive into her neighbourhood.

All has not been in vain, however. She knows that to be true when she kisses him goodbye and hops off the RV with a light heart. She had left her apartment half-disgruntled and half-apathetic; she returns to it with a smile on her face and a general sense of happiness. Making a mental note to inform him of his success in "lighting up" her world again, she unpacks and starts a fresh load of laundry. That he will gloat over his victory is a given, but this time, he has completely won that right.

xoxo

At half past eleven, her phone rings.

"David," she says as she picks up, and his voice greets her over the line.

"_Whatchu doing?"_

"I am just preparing for bed. Are you calling to check up on me?" she teases.

"No. _I was just hoping you weren't already asleep."_

"Even if I were, I am awake now." The line goes static as she waits for him to tell her why he's called. After a pause, he continues talking.

"_I miss you already."_

She laughs. "Tony, you dropped me off just six hours ago."

"_Yeah, I know." _Another pause.

She smiles and takes the phone into her bedroom, and the vast emptiness of her bed causes her to be so taken aback that she realizes in an instant why he's calling.

"Okay," she tells him as she pulls the covers back and settles into bed, glad for his warm voice against her ear. "Let's talk. But I think we probably should not do this every night."

"_Gettin' tired of me already?"_

She chuckles. "No. But we already work together. It would be insane to have to talk to each other before bed, too."

"_Hey, remember our little living arrangements we made before we came back?"_

"Some days at your place, some days at mine, and some days at our own?"

"_Yeah. Well, I was thinking that you're gonna have to talk to me before bed if we're at either of our places; otherwise, things could get weird."_

She makes a face even though he can't see her. "You know what I mean about calling each other before bed, Tony."

"_Yeah, I know," _he grumbles.

"By the way, I am picking you up at seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Do not be late."

"_Wait, wait. Why are you picking me up?"_

"I think it would be good to present Gibbs with a united front."

"_Oh." _Pause. _"Are you scared?"_

"No, excited," she answers with a smile. He makes a disbelieving noise and calls her on her lie. "Okay, maybe a little nervous. But we will be fine. I will not let Gibbs get in our way."

"_You gonna off him if he doesn't approve of us?"_

"_Tony,_" she chides laughingly. "I was thinking more along the lines of switching to another team."

"_Oh. If we're gonna do that, I want to be the one to do it."_

"Why? You have been on his team for yea—"

"_Exactly. It'd be time I moved on. And even if it weren't, I couldn't make you give up your spot. I wouldn't let you."_

"What if I wanted to?"

"_Do you want to?" _he asks incredulously. She sighs.

"No. But I could not ask such a big sacrifice of you."

"_You're not asking. I'd be doing it for you of my own volition, 'cause that's what a sacrifice means."_

She smiles and snuggles into a more comfortable position under the blankets. "Thank you, Tony. I don't say this enough, but you are a good man."

"_Heh. Only tryna do the right thing."_

"Yes. Well, that is what good men do. Anyway, I thought I might want to tell you before I forgot that you are right."

"_Right about what?"_

"The road trip. It has cheered me up."

"_Ah-hah!" _he exclaims rather predictably. _"Score one for DiNozzo."_

"I thought you might gloat."

"_Believe me, Ziva, that's not gloating. I'm just glad you're happy again."_

"I am glad, too." She smiles. "I'm going to bed."

"_God, Zi, don't mention you and 'bed' in the same sentence. It puts really nice images in my head … or horrible images, depending on how you look at it."_

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "_Horrible_ images?"

"_Only because you're not here for me to cuddle … and do other stuff with."_

She snorts. "I swear you have an insatiable libido."

"_Like you don't."_

"Not as insatiable as yours. Either way, I am going to bed, and you can do whatever you want with those images."

"_Hrrrmph. Can I get a kiss?"_

"Over the phone?"

"_Yeah. A—wait for it, wait for it—a phone kiss."_

"Tony, I am not going to kiss the phone."

"_I didn't ask you to literally kiss the _phone._"_

"It's almost the same."

"_No, it's not."_

"Whatever. I'm not doing it. It sounds stupid."

"_It sounds romantic. Didn't you say you were gonna work on the romantic?"_

She laughs and concedes defeat. "Alright," she sighs, and screws her eyes shut while she blows a kiss through the phone. "There. Do not make me do that a second time or I will castrate you the first opportunity I get."

He chuckles. _"Romantic. And, thank you. What about the next time I call?"_

"That … is a matter to be discussed the next time you call. Goodnight, Tony."

"_Night, Zi. Sweet dreams."_

"Sleep well. I will see you tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**The **_**Cape May Whale Watcher **_**offers two-hour dolphin watches and three-hour whale-and-dolphin watches around Cape May, New Jersey. Other cruises are also offered, and the cruise ships may be reserved for weddings and birthday parties. The dolphin watch that Tony and Ziva went on, "Around Cape May," involves a narrated tour to Victorian Houses, the Cape May Lighthouse, and other points of interest; a continental breakfast is provided, and there is a never-expiring marine mammal sighting guarantee (meaning that if no dolphins, whales, or porpoises are spotted on the trip, the ticket holder will receive a free pass for another trip). Website: www(dot)capemaywhalewatcher(dot)com**

**And just for information's sake, the **_**Navy **__**Marine Mammal Programme (NMMP) **_**studies, trains, and deploys marine mammals like bottlenose dolphins and California sea lions to protect ports and Navy assets from swimmer attacks, locate and attach recovery hardware to training targets, and locate sea mines. Website: www(dot)public(dot)navy(dot)mil/spawar/Pacific/71500/Pages/default(dot)aspx**

**Bear with me for a moment; I just need to announce this again (or for the first time, if you don't read my other fics). My friend and I recently started a petition requesting more of Somalia on NCIS. If you like petitions and think that you'd like to see more of Somalia on NCIS, please head over to the link below and sign! If you disagree with our petition or do not like petitions in general, never mind, and thank you very much for bearing with me :D Link: www(dot)ipetitions(dot)com/petition/more-somalia-on-ncis**

**Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review on your way out :)**

**-_Soph_**


	30. Epilogue

**Epilogue :D this one spans a period of a few months, and so is a little different from the other chapters. Still, I hope you like it!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

_Never take anything for granted._

That is what she learns from being in a relationship with Anthony DiNozzo, Jr, although she thinks that the lesson itself has been taken for granted time and again, anyway.

Gibbs hadn't even headslapped them when they'd stepped into the bullpen together on their first day back, their hands linked. Instead, he had just rolled his eyes, and his mouth had twitched in a way that might've been him muttering, "_Seriously?_" And then he'd taken a sip of coffee and asked them (_pointedly _requesting that they leave the finer details out) how their trip had gone.

She doesn't know whether she or Tony had been more befuddled by Gibbs' reaction, but neither of them pushed their luck.

Surprisingly, Abby was much more relaxed and Palmer much more enthusiastic than they'd expected. She suspects that McGee had much to do with getting Abby to react in a relatively calm way; the junior field agent really is more skilled and perceptive than any of them give him credit for. Palmer, on the other hand, had still been high on the feeling of being newly married and had not hesitated to congratulate them on their relationship. The look her partner shot him had been so full of incredulity that Palmer was reduced to his usual shy and flustered self, and she couldn't help the giggles that had escaped her lips once Palmer had left them.

xoxo

Their first week goes well, and despite their strangely increased need to be around each other, they manage to keep it at a level where Gibbs only has to reprimand them thrice more than usually necessary. She considers it an achievement, and her partner goes on to add that it is one of epic proportions.

The second week doesn't progress as smoothly, though, because reality starts to sink in. Granted, it is a welcomed reality, but she still finds it rather alarming that they fail to keep to any sort of pre-planned arrangements. She goes over to his apartment for a night and ends up staying a weekend instead; caught up in the feelings of missing each other desperately, they abandon the ideal of taking anything slowly. On that weekend, she learns that maybe, just maybe, it is better for their relationship if they are physically together than not.

It comes as a shock to her that her hunch is more right than wrong. The third, fourth, and fifth weeks pass without any major argument or problem which would have convinced her that they were better off in their respective spaces. Thus, he bunks at her apartment for the entirety of the sixth week. She reciprocates on the seventh.

A fortnight later, she realizes that he has somehow moved into her apartment without either of them even realizing it.

xoxo

It takes only another fortnight, though, for things to all fall apart. It starts with her being unable to find her keys as they are leaving for work; it ends in a rather spectacular fashion after work, when she accuses him of being messy and he accuses her of being a hypocrite, and the little annoying habits and unintentionally hurtful actions that they have ignored over the past two months in favour of walking on eggshells are dredged up. In the end, she yells at him to leave. He yells that he would rather be anywhere than in a room with her ever again.

She feels as if life loses all meaning after that. It isn't his absence from her apartment (even though she misses him terribly) as much as it is the words he had carved into her heart before leaving, and the way he looks at her after. She has nowhere she would rather be than in a room with him, even if they are in the midst of a full-blown argument and not speaking to each other, and it kills her to know that he seems better off without her.

She manages to keep up her charade the first eight days after their breakup. On the ninth day, Insanity rears its head, and she drags Abby off to the nearest bar after work to down as many shots of tequila as she can without throwing up or passing out. She doesn't care that it's a "school night" as Abby so aptly puts it, and that investigating cases are hard on a hangover. She doesn't care that she is going against her instincts and her training by drinking that much. It's not just her heart that he has broken, after all. It is also her character and her dignity—because she is certain that she had never thought herself to be so easily hated by anyone, especially him.

Karma's a bitch.

She had hated him once upon a time, and it is only fair that he now hates her back with equal passion.

And so, the only drunken move she makes is to try and wrestle the phone out of Abby's hands when the goth makes a very angry phone call filled with very colourful language to a certain senior field agent.

xoxo

Her half-drunk conscience had been right: It is hard to investigate cases while hung-over. By sheer bad luck, she has to grapple with a suspect the next day; judgement that is a millisecond too late results in the suspect's successfully planting a kick right into the middle of her stomach. She still manages to trip the guy as she falls, but that doesn't stop her from landing on the floor feeling rather winded and a little too nauseated.

She watches with a pounding head as Gibbs handcuffs the suspect in a growly voice and Tony approaches her with large and worried eyes. Nausea is the only thing still keeping her on the ground, really, so she contemplates getting up and taking off before he can reach her; but then he squats and his arms wrap securely around her, and she is sure no one misses the way she melts into his embrace in almost-tears.

He should hate her. He really_ should. _She just hasn't found a way to convince herself to accept that yet.

That night, he follows her home, and they talk. They don't do anything other than talking, but she learns another important lesson: Compromise is important, but honesty is not one of the things which can ever be compromised for the sake of pretended harmony. So they make a pact to tell the truth, even about the smaller things in life.

He doesn't stay the night, but he does kiss her gently before he leaves and look into her eyes while he tells her that he will _never_ stop loving her.

Just like that, her world is becomes right again.

xoxo

Brick by brick, piece by piece, they rebuild their relationship. At first, he stays over for a night; and then, she stays at his place for the weekend. It is like when they had first gotten back from the road trip, except that things somehow seem more relaxed now. They try to pay more attention to the time they spend together and worry less about offending each other; even though they get a little too snarky at times, their relationship only grows stronger.

In October, a little more than six months after his first hesitant confession, they fly to Israel to visit Aunt Nettie. He sits twitching throughout the entire flight on the way there, but is strangely calm on the way back. She wonders what Aunt Nettie had talked to him about during his one-to-one conversations with the elderly woman. He never tells her.

She spends Christmas and New Year's Eve with him. On Christmas Day, she presents him with a home-cooked breakfast and a gift; he chases her around the apartment issuing the most creative threats he can think of after he unwraps the present to find a set of Japanese daruma dolls. He catches her only because she lets him, and the punishment he inflicts is thankfully no more painful than merciless tickling.

Her eyes water when he finally presents her with her gift—a charm bracelet that, even though they both know she won't wear it often, means _the world_ to her. A bus to represent their RV. A star to represent the night at Natural Bridges. A soft-drink cup to represent their celebratory smoothie. A baby's rattle to represent their hopes. And so the list goes on, until the bracelet runs out of space and he runs out of ideas.

He is unsuccessful in his attempts six days later to get her to put on a party hat to welcome in the New Year, but he pouts less when she agrees to count down the seconds with him. By the end of the minute-long kiss at midnight, he is smiling so happily that his face almost seems wider.

Their first New Year together, as a couple. Hardly a milestone in her eyes, but when she thinks back through the years of their friendship and work partnership, where love and hate had almost been indistinguishable from each other, she learns that it is a _privilege_ for her to be currently being held in his arms and smiled at like she's the world's most priceless gem.

_Never take anything for granted._

She thinks she may truly know what it means, now.

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><p><strong>AN #2: _Aaaaand _cut! That's the end, ladies and gentleman :D**

**A big thanks to _Courtzylovesit _for the idea that Ziva should actually give Tony the daruma dolls (from Chapter 26) for Christmas, lol.**

**To _Tiva-Babe UK_: I meant to put this in the previous chapter's A/N, but I forgot, haha. Thank you sooo much for all your reviews. I would love to reply to them, but unfortunately you have disabled your PM feature; anyway, I'm sorry they didn't have a quickie wedding on the last half-day LOL, but I'm glad you've enjoyed reading the entire story! Thank you for your feedback, again, truly.**

**And a HUGE THANKS to everyone who's read, favourited, set out alerts for, and reviewed this story! I don't think I could've gone all 30 chapters without your support, haha. I may've given up before I was even halfway through otherwise. So, you have my eternal gratitude :P**

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><p><strong>AN #3: I've written the first chapter of _Destination, _the sequel to this story. In it, Tony and Ziva fly to Tel Aviv to meet Aunt Nettie :D and I'd intended it to be a one-shot, but it ended up being a multi-chapter, because apparently you can't take a 14-hour-at-the-minimum flight from DC to Tel Aviv, a meeting with Aunt Nettie, and a flight back, and put it all into one chapter **(or you can, but it'd be very long and rambly)**. So they're staying in Tel Aviv for the better part of the week. And in case you're wondering, the plane tickets were the most expensive out of the whole thing :/**

**Anyway, link: www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net(slash)s/8047983/1/**

**-_Soph_**


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